The Needs of the Many
by SrMichaelBucket
Summary: A demon seeks to re-gain his once great control on the souls he hopes to consume, but he doesn't count on one mistake and he finds himself with more than he bargained for. (I tried to avoid a cryptic summary this time.)
1. Chapter 1: The Mistake

_AN~This entire fic will be based off of an RP I did with some friends. I think it was interesting and so did many of my friends which I shared it with. Don't worry, it will be in story format here, but it will be much different than any of my other stories. It'll have a sort of dark feel, while I tend to put a lot of humor into my stories. During the actual RP, I was Golden Freddy, mainly because I like being the Evil one. My Friend Emily was Chica, MrCyborgNation (Who is, unfortunately, deceased due to a car accident) played Bonnie (Who was male in this RP), CaffeinatedNewfie (CoffeeNewfie on FF) played Foxy, and My other Friend, Connor, played both a character you will meet later and Freddy Fazbear. Now, we were only able to get so far before losing our Bonnie role-player, so near the end, there will be some improvisation on my part that I hope fits in with the rest of the story. Enjoy! _

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><p>The yellow notice upon the glass door read clear, even by the moon-light which shone through it to reveal the text in reverse. They read it over once or twice then knew abhorrent events would transpire about the next few days. A consolation was due immediately. Chica walked briskly, but stiff in her costume, to the back administration office, far removed from the actual establishment, though still connected by a back-hallway. She took a black marker from the cup on the desk, which was almost entirely cleared off from the building being gutted, and carried it back to the main-party room, also empty save for the stage, now bare, and pirate cove which was still and even had the curtain still hanging about the round platform. Bonnie took the marker from her and did his best to draw a circle, just large enough for the three of them, on the floor. It was a simple circle, nothing special about it as such spangle wasn't required here. All it needed was the souls inside. Each of them stepped within the circle and waited but a moment before a cloud slowly rose up from the molding purple carpet. A feint glow resided within the circle, perhaps hardly visible in daylight, but at night it was ever illuminating.<p>

The cloud sluggishly floated up to the ceiling then coiled into a funnel. At the base of it, a limp, empty costume, old and aged, sat mouth agape. The image was idolized by the three, but it was only a vessel. The cloud took shape and round cap took to the base of the funnel, two florid red shaped adorned it as it rose and peered down upon the three which had summoned it. "I sense tension, nervousness, fear. You fear something." The voice, like gravel and just as unpleasant, sounded bitter. The animatronics simply pointed to the door, unable to vocalize anything past their audio programming or the occasional scream, which turned out to be a finely tuned dialogue glitch made to sound like a human scream. The cloud leaned forth an inch, unable to leave the circle, and read what he could of the bold letters on the sign, backwards. "Misfortune. Adversity. Inconvenience. Humans are incapable of keeping this meager shack even barely acceptable. They force my hand. I need reach. I need souls." The cloud glared at the three, circling them and growling savagely. Each second he spent in frustration.

Years ago, he had found passage into the living world. This passage came in the form of idolized characters, holding special pedestal in the minds of children. Children were easy to manipulate and it'd be the perfect way to gain what he needed. But, child souls were small. He'd need many more of them than he would of any other soul, yet it was possible. He took control of one of the mortal creations and managed five souls into hold. Three were distributed among he new followers, then a fourth perhaps a year or two later. The last was kept for himself, as were the rest collected through the years. He was nearly at peak, read to do as he and planned years and years prior. Then came the mistake. The mistake restricted his reach and forced upon him a leash. He became too weak to even leave the building and was now reduced more to a meager drawn circle on an empty party floor, soon to be demolished as the law required by the human's Health Administration. But, this circle could move, so long as he had his three trusted souls who would draw it for him. And if they could move, so could he, and if they managed to move against the current boundaries, they could break the choke-chain which constricted what they were working for.

"It will not end here," he finally growled, this time with greater devotion. He had an idea in his head. This idea would render him weak for some time, but, when all was established, he would have his old ways back and perhaps might not have to resort to children as his only power source. The cloud waved two tentacles, a silent order for the circle to be cleared. His three loyalists exited but kept in a triangular formation just off to the sides. The cloud retreated into the worn frame-less form, which soon began to radiate with an unripe color. The circle did the same and soon small orbs of energy fluttered up and danced vigorously before popping in venomous sparks. The color soon glowed brighter, casting a sickly hue upon the entire room. Just off to the side, far removed, a curtain did sway slightly to the side. A single amber light flickered dimly behind it.

"I shall extend. I shall prosper. My disciples shall advance as I do and shall spread my influence far past what it is now. I shall give sentience beyond any you've known." One sparking orb shot out, touching Freddy's mid-section. Another did Bonnie, then Chica. The glow inflamed, shining with a blinding aura, cast about and shone through-out the lot and even into the windows and the world outside, drenched in rain. Each form was engulfed within its light and lifted just an inch off of the floor. Then, they dropped one by one, landing with a dull thud, uncharacteristic for mechanical beings. "Reach out for me. Escape now, and you shall never die."

One pair of blue irises shot open, staring up at the darkness of the powerless ceiling. Then another pair, this time green, then the last, brown. None of them moves, as it sudden sensation was strange, but Chica managed to roll her head over just enough to catch the glimpse of light, a flicker of green, shining out and muffled behind a purple wall of fabric. She didn't know what to think of it as she had no idea what to think of herself at the moment. Her head felt heavy and these strange fibers came to her hands. Her left palm felt somewhat tacky while her right scrapped the surface of individual fibers underhand. An exasperated gust of hair huffed out from next to her. She turned her head again and froze stiff. It was a human. Her first reaction was that of confusion. He hadn't been there before. How did he get there?

The male was sitting up, staring at his hands and feeling them together, transfixed on them as though they were something to marvel at. He then turned his head to her, looking at here with sea-blue eyes. He form of dress was rather strange, as well. He wore a brown coat, white shirt, brown dress pants, a black bow-tie, and a top-hat to match. It was like an amusing human render of Freddy. It was then that it hit her. This human _was _Freddy. Chica quickly switched her gaze across the room and found her eyes upon another human male in a purple formal suit and red bow-tie. He was also sitting up, looking over his body and curiously feeling the clothing upon it.

Chica finally found the means to sit up and lifted her hands to look at them. They were somewhat thinner and smaller than Freddy's, but quite a bit, actually, and one was covered in old pizza. She nonchalantly wiped the food-stuff away and looked at the rest of her. Her legs were also thinner than her fellow loyalist, as well as her waste, but with the addition of other parts. She was different and she knew in what way. She was identified as female and thus given the female body.

A sickening feeling began to bubble in her mid-section as she curtains of pirate cove blew loosely in the blackness. Chica grabbed the rather soft material of Freddy's jacked and pulled on it gently. He turned his head towards her. The intensity within his eyes was haunting, but his expression was a soft mixture of surprise, confusion, and question. The female wasn't quite sure how to vocalized as humans did, but simply pointed to the cove and let fer facial expression aid her in ways that were useful, more so than in her original form. Freddy understood and rose from his place on the floor. After but a few shaken steps, he inched towards the cove, stopping dead as a soft, but guttural sound escaped between the curtains. Inside the circle, the cloud had risen again and was squinting intently in the direction.

Freddy moved closer by a step and stopped once more. The curtains swayed and flared out slightly from a gust of air behind them. Scuffling could be heard and it seemed rather erratic. Then, in a sudden crash, a spur of wood broke and launched some small fragments out of the cove, remnants of a wooden barrel prop which had been abandoned with the cove. Tumbling out with them, was another human, male. His hair was an inhuman crimson and terribly messy. It looked rather oily. He wore a white lace shirt, stained, with three large rips along the chest and flannel collar. Around his waste was tied a bright red sash, covering the hips of his brown trousers. The pants tore off at the bottom, revealing bare feet. The sleeves of the shirt were rolled up, showing a pair of strong arms, much larger than both Bonnie's and Freddy's, but one hand remained normal, the other was tipped with a hook. The man's face deemed scruffy with some crimson facial stubble, and an eye-patch over the right eye. The left was a visible amber.

The cloud rose up, its body filling out and buffering like a storm. His voice rose to a roar and flared out in resentment. "The mistake!" he burst, sending waves of ripples along his smoke-like form. "He was not suppose to take part! Freddy!" Freddy turned and looked at the mass with his glimmering, but horrifying eyes. "Kill him..." Foxy's head shot up, eyeing the human in front of him with the malice which only occupied his being to be aimed at one and one thing only. No matter if he was aware of the situation or not, the red-headed being shot up and took Freddy by the throat, going to stab the metal tip of his hook into it, but Freddy wriggled one arm free and slammed him palm into Foxy's forehead. The pirate backed off just enough for Freddy's to kick out, albeit weakly, and hit Foxy in his abdomen. Foxy stumbled back and landed hard on his back, letting out a soft hiss between his teeth, some normal with a few golden ones thrown in. Freddy took his chance and snatched up a shard of wood, with it in hand he lunched haphazardly at the pirate. Foxy growled and rolled back, kicking out with both feet and landing the hit on the other's chest. The red-head was quick to his feet and turned to face Freddy, who got up as well. The other man dropped the wood-shard and sized up the other. Foxy stood read, one hand in a fist, the other turned as to strike out. He look prepared, but found himself faltering when an unexpected mass of at least 200 pounds charged him head on and smashed him through the front door. The glass and old metal collapsed under their combined weight, shoving them both out into the soaking parking lot. Freddy reeled back as soon as the cold liquid touched his skin, slinking back from the freezing shock.

Foxy, though, took his chance and bolted off towards the main road. Freddy looked back at the cloud which shifted in hue from grey to red. "Go after him!" he roared, as thus Freddy was soon to obey.


	2. Chapter 2: Where?

Whatever it was beneath his feet made him slip and tumble down onto the sidewalk. The object, perhaps some loose glass, flew off under his foot and smacked into a garbage can which clanked shrilly. Foxy tried to quickly regain himself, but something took him by the ankle and yanked him into the alley. They stood face to face, soaked and slightly shivering. Blue eyes glared him down, so full of intent, but nothing in terms of free will. Foxy slowly lifted his hook and pressed the sharp tip to the brunet's jugular. There were many ways to kill a man, and Foxy only knew two, but either or would suffice for average man. He wanted Freddy's death to be glorious, though. Just a simple slow bleeding wouldn't be enough for Satan's lap-dog.

The look upon Foxy's face screamed to the other a dare. He dared with his eyes for the man to do something. It would be his final action, surely enough. Freddy just stood there though, as if trying to kill Foxy with his glare. If it were at all possible, Freddy would be the one to do so. His irises haunted with a bright but sickly demonic shine. He held it not in his expression, but you could see it in those pits of black that he eagerly wanted to tear the pirate apart. He'd tried to on one occasion, but killing something which had no life to begin with was insanely hopeless. He'd gotten to take it out on someone, though, and the permanent damage done to Foxy was enough back then. Now, the only thing that would stop it is if someone ended up dead here and now.

The red-head lightly began to press the tip of the hook into the flesh on his attacker's neck. It sure as hell wasn't going to be him. Freddy caught it and quickly tossed Foxy to his right. His first mistake as the hook dragged itself across Freddy's neck, leaving a deep slash. Had he thrown him the other way, only a small bit of skin might have gone missing. Now he was badly wounded. Foxy jumped to his feet and grabbed an empty trash can. He smashed the tin into Freddy's temple and forced all of his weight on top as the brunet fell. Freddy's head hit the pavement with a sickly clack, but he still managed to roll the object off and throw the red-head off balance. The pirate didn't fall though, and Freddy missed the chance to counter. His second mistake. Foxy smacked the blunt of his hook into the other's head, causing another sickening sound, but Freddy merely growled and grabbed Foxy's wrist and he came in for another blow. He twisted it and shoved the red-head onto the sidewalk.

A few pedestrians backed out of the way with a wave of gasps and some light squeaks. Foxy sat up just in time to press the soles of his feet to Freddy's chest and sling him into the road. Cars screeched to an abrupt stop, horns wailing and people shouting in rude garbles which neither bothered to listen to. Foxy rolled onto the street, the thought of fleeing erased from his mind. His only goal, his only wish, was to put the loyalist in his place: six feet under ground. Foxy bolted forward, his teeth bared in a silent snarl. Freddy just sat there, a dazed look in his eyes, but it quickly vanished as a glimmer shined under the sun which was just breaking the horizon. Whatever it was collided with Foxy's head.

He wasn't sure what happened after that, but he felt as his body collapsed into the street. His ears rang with noise: scuffling, screaming, car horns blaring, and the feint sounds of sirens. Something brushed past his face, a gust of wind, and when he opened his eyes, he saw just a glimpse of brown as Freddy's form faded into the crowed, heading back the way he had came. His eyes blinked once or twice, then closed one last time.

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><p>Empty words rolled about his head, spilling strange trains of thought into lakes of confusion. Different sounds and smells invaded him, but he couldn't focus on them. They were merely sounds and smells without names because he could not recognize them. There was much of the world he couldn't recognize as his entire existence and all he knew was back at a now abandoned pizza place; one of which he never wanted to return to. They Pizzeria had televisions on the walls in some spots, but they usually played cartoons for the children. Some of the shows he liked and he'd crack the curtains just slightly to watch along with the kids, but most often they'd put in on some show about learning and he wasn't one to pay any of that an ounce of his mind. He always thought he knew enough and that none of the lessons the characters taught would do him any good, but that was before the recent events...<p>

The recent events... Where was he? He remembered fighting with Freddy. Getting hit in the head. Freddy running away. It was blurry at the moment. One of the noises, which was starting to irritate him, began to come into focus. One of Foxy's eyes opened, the other seemingly not wanting to, and he rolled his head to his left. There were many things there like tubes, a table, and a small box with a moving line going across it. Foxy tried to reach out and touch it, but stopped when he found something on his arm. It looked like it was taped there, but when he tried to pull it off he was awoken by the painful shock which revealed that it was, in fact, stabbed into his arm. He yanked it out and tossed the small needle to the side. The box stopped with the regular beeping and the line went flat. This time there was a single long ring, louder than the other, smaller beeps. It was worse.

Foxy's ears perked as the sound of rushing feet came and stopped in his door. He turned his head quickly to see two women standing there. Upon seeing him awake, their expressions softened. One of them walked to Foxy's side and tried a smile, an expression which was not mirrored by the man she was looking at. Foxy was frozen. He stared, not at all sure of what he was intended to do. "Hello, Sir," the brunet, hair tied back neatly, finally said. Foxy opened and closed his mouth, but nothing came out. "Do you have a name?" Foxy sat there for a moment before answering with a slow nod, eyes still wide like a deer in headlights. "What is it?"

He was stumped again. He never knew how to speak beyond programming because those words were just always there, he'd always known them, and he just had to think them for them to come out. Perhaps... Perhaps it was the same way with his body. He thought his name and thought about the sounds and it his mouth could make them come out, but that was a little less than what he needed. All that came out was a guttural 'uhh...eee..." Humans had to be different then, in some way. Then he though of the people he'd seen in his life; the people he'd seen and heard speak. The ones that had said his name. They moved their mouths, but in what way to form his name?

'_Foxy... F-Foxy..._' He thought. The letter 'F.' When humans said it, their top teeth lightly came to their bottom lip and they blew out some hair between their teeth. He tried it and it sounded right. The 'O' was easy and came out without any help from his lips, soon the same with the 'X' and the 'Y'. Before he knew it, he'd said his name and the woman tilted her head.

"What was that?" she asked. Foxy took in a deep breath and spoke it again, this time louder.

"Foxy." Both women exchanged looks of amusement, grins and raised brows between one another.

"Okay," she said slowly, the hint of a laugh in her words, "And your last name?" Foxy tilted his head. His last name? Did humans change names? He'd seen a girl once that used to work at the Pizzeria with the name 'Alison.' For the first week, Alison wen't by that name and nothing more, but, after a while, They started calling her 'Allie.' No one had ever called Foxy anything else, though. He'd been Foxy and just Foxy. "Do you have a last name?" she asked. Foxy shook his head and the women stared at each other again. "Alright, well, do you have any family?" He shook his head again. "Is there anyone who knows you that could possibly come check on you?" He sat there for a moment in thought. He knew a few humans by name and they all worked at the Pizza place.

"Fazbear's..." he managed and the woman actually seemed to have some understanding off it.

"Freddy Fazbear's? Someone who works there knows you?"

"I heard the health administration is shutting that place down," came the other woman with black hair and some strange green outfit apposed to the brunet's blue one. The first woman disregarded that and continued her questioning.

"Who knows you from there?" A few names bounced around and Foxy tried to grab one or the other. The first one that came to his lips was a little unexpected, though.

"...Shay..." The woman nodded and turned to the other.

"Look up a list of employment from Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria and look for someone by the name of 'Shay.'" The ebony-haired woman nodded and walked briskly from the room. The brunet stayed there, sitting down in a fold-able chair next to the bed. Foxy looked around, glaring at the blinding ceiling lights and pristine white walls. A window was to his left with the blinds open to show a small town-scape only now waking from night's embrace. He was on one of the upper floors of the building, but still not sure which building that was.

"Where...?" he breathed, voice a little horse. The brunet lifted her head.

"You're in the hospital. We found you lying in the street. You have a pretty good sized knot on your head. Do you know what happened?"

"I... was... Fighting. I got... into a fight."

"With who?" Foxy could just come out and tell the truth. This women, perhaps a doctor or nurse, and her friend probably already thought him unhinged.

"I can't remember." The woman shrugged and returned to staring at her lap. Upon some inspection, Foxy found her playing with some glowing device in her hand. Not too long after she left, the black-haired woman was back and handed the other a small strip of paper. There was some writing on the front, but he was unable to read it through the paper. It was probably a name, considering what they said next.

"There was once a Dillon Shay who used to be co-owner of the establishment. He left a week after the place opened for unknown reasons and is currently living downtown." She handed the woman another peace of paper, this one larger than the last. The brunet turned it around and there was a picture on it. The face was familiar. Foxy had seen him before. A part of his mind retreated to his activation. He remembered being turned on and the first person he saw was an average-height blond man in his early twenties. The stage lights shone brightly in a pair of green irises which seemed as though they viewed him with promise. He obviously had high-hopes for Foxy. Those hopes were soon slaughtered upon the spring of 1987. It was the last time he ever saw that man and this time, his eyes were was so much different.

"Do you know him?" asked the brunet. Foxy nodded, staring at the photo in a trance, still deep in thought. The brunet handed both papers back to her companion with the instructions "Call him," leaving her lips.


	3. Chapter 3: Dillon Shay

The ringing of his cell phone, obviously being ignored, could no longer be put aside as he remembered setting one of the most irritating sounds so that he couldn't ignore it. He had a tendency to let the device ring, despite the possibility of a serious issue from either his lawyers or his sister's therapist. He'd been getting a lot of heat from the police as of late over old blood which he was sure had been buried years ago only to have it exhumed recently. Dillon finally pressed the answer button and put the phone his ear, letting the irritation his tired body pushed forth fester. "Hello?" The voice on the other end was monotone. She was serious and made it plainly clear in the flat, dull waves of her voice which seemed designed and perfectly suited to bore someone half into their grave.

"Is this Dillon Shay, former co-owner of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza?" Hearing this particular sentence was growing overly tiresome.

"Yes ma'am," he answered, trying to mask his displeasure with a flat tone to mirror the woman's. There was a pause and a quiet sigh over the light tapping of a keyboard.

"Well this is Nurse Jennings from the Glenview memorial hospital. We have a man here, seems to have taken a serious beating, with obvious partial amnesia. We asked him a few questions and it is apparent that he is mentally unstable at this moment, but your name came up so we contacted you. He says his name is..." she paused and it could be heard that she was asking around to see if her information was correct. After a few seconds she turned back and finished the sentence with a hint of amusement and disbelief in her voice, "Foxy." Dillon promptly broke out in mirth, wheezing even when he had little air left to breathe.

"Oh really?" he asked, humor in his tone, "What does he look like?" It took the nurse a moment to answer.

"Uh... He's got some unnaturally red hair. Kind of blood red. Some facial stubble, a strong but thin build. Ye... Yellow-ish eyes. That's a little creepy, not to mention rare, or nonexistent rather. Maybe a birth defect. He DID have a displaced jaw when he came in, but we were able to re-correct it without major procedure. Some of the reports the doctor did on him do say he has some false teeth, gold plated or at least painted to look gold. He'd also missing his right hand."

Dillon sat there silent, eyes looking around in a rather uneasy manor. "God, that is dedication." He let out a nervous cackle. "Alright, I'll humor the psycho. Be there in around ten, twenty minutes tops."

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><p>It wasn't unheard of to be bombarded with pranks and hate-acts since 1987. The things that happened that day were entirely on him and he had admitted it nationally to the press and to the local community. Dillon expected this act to make the incident blow over easier, seeing as he didn't try to deny involvement or guilt and full on took responsibility. Foxy should have been field tested, he knew it damn well, but the excitement over getting this new animatronic and one of the largest party bookings they'd had in years just pushed all reason and logical thinking aside. Initially when Foxy was first introduced, there were many positive comments about him, mainly from young boys, and some from parents who liked that they actually had a themed robot. It only took ten minutes to spiral down from delectation to horror in a ball of gas-fueled fire.<p>

But now, almost two years since the last 'bite themed' prank, Dillon anticipated that it was finally past him and he could move on. Now there was some psycho in the local hospital who seemed so dedicated to the act that he'd mutilate himself just to bring resemblance between him and the character involved. Dillon could only imagine the look of this man as his truck inched into the parking lot and fully to a stop. He imagined a moonstruck lunatic, holding populous amounts of intense madness within his discolored eyes. He saw a man in filthy clothes, dark around the eyes, and fresh of scars from his body carving and self mutilation. What he could have never imagined was a charming young man, mid to late twenties, sitting on the hospital bed with a look of wonder and confusion staining his oddly golden eyes. It was also obvious that his missing hand was not a recent modification, but looked as though years were behind its scars.

Just as Dillon came to the doorway, the man seemed to be slowly drifting into either sleep of some form of daydream. He wasn't at all aware of another human's presence in the room until Dillon apt to knock on the frame. The red-head quickly looked in his direction with a spark of recognition alighting in his eyes. "Shay...?" he almost whispered, having some apparent difficulty with words.

"Yes, I'm Dillon Shay. And you?" The red-head snorted out his nose.

"Ye already... know... me." His accent was a strange form of sloppy Irish.

"Do I now? When did you last see me?" The man sat in thought for a few minutes before slowly answering.

"May seventeenth, ten-twenty-three A.M. nineteen-eighty-seven. I... I can't remember much of it... But its that memory... that made me think you can help me. I need to show you... Show you something. I can't explain it because... because I know you'll think I'm crazy, which I probably am, but..."

Dillon tilted his head. "Show me something? What do you need to show me?"

"No man was at fault for what happened that day, nor were any of the characters. What if I could show ye something that would change ye world and ye take on life?" Dillon was past the point of 'creeped-out.' He wasn't even there two minutes and this man was already rambling about the bite. Yet, he mentioned one thing that struck Shay in the dead-center of his heart: It wasn't his fault. No one who knew about the bite blamed it on anyone but him, yet this lunatic saw it differently. Granted, he was obviously crazy, but what made even his delusion exclude him from blame?

"I don't know. Are you planning on taking me to some ditch out in the middle on no-where so you can shank me?" The man tilted his head.

"What does that mean?"

"Never mind, what do you want to show me?"

"We need to go to... Fazbear's." His level of tolerance peaked there. Dillon laughed and shook his head, clenching his fists as he pushed off of the door.

"Uh-huh... I don't think so. I'm not going back to that pitiful little shit-hole until the day they breaking the wrecking ball."

"That's today, lad... Besides, I told me-self the same thing just yesterday, but I need ye to believe me before I can get ye to help me. I know this is some sudden... arrangement but... there's no tellin' if they're still there. Please, just... if ye don't believe me any now, humor me for a little while, lad?" Dillon sighed, resting against the door-frame once more. He looked at the man with skeptic eyes.

"Alright, fine. What is it that you intend to show me at the Pizzeria?"

"A link between earth and hell."

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><p>The nurses were kind enough to return all of his original clothes, which made Foxy just slightly more appeased. The awful gowns which most admits were designated had to be the most unnatural and uncomfortable garments. One of the main problems, though, was not having something to cover his right appendage. The hook was a little showy when around humans in their normal atmosphere, but he'd rather be though just a strange man than an amputee. Nothing was worse than pity. This Dillon Shay character seemed rather amused by his usual attire, as well. He even smiled once more upon seeing him fully dressed in it. He was doing that a lot lately, the smiling. In fact, most humans he'd seen already had smiled at him, yet not in the way Dillon did. Dillon's made Foxy feel a little sick inside, like it wasn't meant to display happiness.<p>

No matter that, though, the man had agreed to accompany Foxy on this voyage and that was all he wanted for the time being. Hopefully the small band of loyalists hadn't relocated yet and planned on doing something... abnormal. Or, at least, the human equivalent of abnormality. It really made Foxy wonder: Did Dillon have any clue as to what had been going on at the Pizzeria? The pirate had seen enough to know that there was a small band within the employment ranks who had a hazy concept of the place's inner workings, but was Shay one of them? A few moments of thinking dictated the answer: no. It was simply spelled out in his leisure and calm attitude towards the place. It was the same blunt hate which most humans regarded the place with, telling Foxy that this human was totally and utterly oblivious. Perhaps if the truth were reviled to him, it would have more weight than Foxy originally thought.

Just upon the coming road was the place in question. The sun was still hardly above the horizon and the day was yet anew. Dillon's expression changed to that of subtle annoyance as they were about to pull into the parking lot. "No!" Foxy quickly burst, pushing the wheel back over slightly. Dillon Jerked gently to regain control then turned his head to glare at his passenger. "They can't see ye pull in. Keep driving then turn and come back but park at the rear of the building and make sure to avoid the front windows."

"Okay, but don't touch the wheel! We could have flipped and car and died!"

"As if death as any weight on me, either me own or yours. If ye die, then I'm on me own, but I can handle me-self, even with the enhanced difficulty. If I die, so what? I'm dead and me torment's ended."

"And if we both died?"

"Who cares? I'm dead!"

"You have a very grim outlook on life. It's the one thing on this earth that is taken for granted the most. Life is precious and without it this world would be nothing but another empty rock floating is space. It's not something you nonchalantly roll off your shoulders like raindrops. We all have our times and they're very short, therefore should be savored with every fiber of out being, not tossed aside as though they meant nothing."

"A poet, ye be, eh?" Foxy snorted. Not of word of it appealed to him, nor did he understand the jest, but whatever the man was blabbering about, he felt good enough passion towards it to lecture him. "But, save me the lip. Life can mean all it does for ye, but I hold it in no regards nor value, so whatever ye be gaspin' at, save ye oxygen."


	4. Chapter 4: Only Human

_AN~Okay, so, recently we've done our best to try and finish the RP that this is based off of and are finding ourselves doubling-up characters to people who already have more than they should manage. We initially gave Bonny over to CoffeeNewfie who also plays Foxy and those characters are like on opposite ends of the earth. They're never in any scenes together and have two very different personalities, which is hard for her to keep on top of. Also, Emily (Chica) and Connor (Dillon and Freddy) are in collage so role-playing has become a chore amongst us all. I can't tell you how many times I've had to be Freddy or Dillon (even both) because we were all ready to role-play and Connor didn't show. Anyway, we hope that all our work will pay off with a story that's worth while._

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><p>A dragging trickle leaked from his mouth in a warm stream of senguin fluid. The drip of blood flowed in constant, stinging other injuries as it rolled down his body. The clothes on his chest were torn apart, ripped opened and shreded to nothing but cloth strips. He couldn't see out of his left eye, having the flesh around the socket and lid swollen over. Once again, the demon's veigueness had caused another fault, this time in the hands of his faveorite loyalists. Faveorite, or not, though, the punishment was all the same, so such that Freddy was left in near parts. The brunette attempted to move his right arm, but could only twitch his fingers. The arm around his elbow was a swollen purple with some red-outline along the edges of the discoloration. There was a painfull lump along his apendage that he identified as a broken bone.<p>

The feelings inside him were mixed, to say the least. He was confuesed, firstly, because he thought he'd done well by his master and damaged his adversary to a point that he saw satasfying, but Freddy then also tasted betrayal, like a child being admonished by his parent for the first time then being punished, but his actual punishment was more severe than most children would ever endure. How was he to know that the demon expected him to be like a dog and return with his work in tow? He never requested such, but then exprected Freddy to know, by some form of telepathy appearantly, to bring the creature back so that more could be done to him.

Not once had he ever been punished or scolded by his master, thus this action was extreme to him. Bonny and Chica sat around the circle, listening to the cloud drone. They'd cast him side glances, looks of pity in their irises, but then they'd return attention to the master. They were instructed to leave him, let him suffer for his failure just as Foxy had. This scared Freddy. Would they leave him there for years and years to rot away? Did humans rot and fester like the suits, as well? It had to have been painful for humans, if the case may be, because even the slightest touch of Freddy's exposed flesh caused a seer of pain through his body, making a thin liquid roll from his eyes. One thought only, though, came through his mind. '_I'm Sorry._'

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><p><em>It was a shock to all of us, seeing Freddy beaten and torn up. We'd never throught we'd ever see it. Freddy was probably master's faveorite. Not only was it surprising, but it made us cringe. We didn't want to look at his broken, battered, bleeding form, though we'd seen many a human in such a state, more often than not <strong>caused <strong>by us. Whatever he had done wrong was still beyond Chica and I. We believed that Freddy had done all he could, but would never voice that thought to master. He might have left us like him. At least, I never would, and I knew better than to even spare more than a second's glance. _

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><p><em>I wanted to help him. He was always our friend, always protecting us and keeping us out of trouble. He taught us how to follow orders and deal with humans so that we wouldn't end up like 'the mistake' (we were told to always call him that). He would always tell us that he didn't want to see us put 'out-of-order' like 'the mistake' and to stop that from happening, we had to to everything right. Never disobey, never voice free opinion, never talk poorly about master, and always strive to do one better than what was ever asked of us. Freddy had practically been a protective parent to us all. Now, we were to just show him the same treatment as 'the mistake'? I didn't want to. Bonnie was just well off with doing as he was told and showing our friend little to no sympathy, but I knew better than to turn my back on him. It would be my last mistake.<em>

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><p>By late afternoon, Dillon had made his way back and had parked his truck not far from the establishment; a 'Taco Bell' parking lot, to be accurite. The stange man which had been accompanying him this entire time had lead him to the side of the building, exposing a rusted ventalation grill, seeing many removals from the actual shaft. The red-head took hold of the grate and moved it ever slightly, trying his ability to produce all but a few meeger sounds. After that, he crouched by the vent, pressed a finger to his lips, then ducked inside. Dillon less than willing to follow suit, finding many a better scinario than whatever waited for him inside. There was already a sickly air brewing in his lungs which made him want to exhume his breakfast. Nevertheless, he mustered his courage and wriggled through the miniscule opening after his current companion.<p>

By the time he'd managed his way-mid tunnel, the other being was vanished from sight. It wasn't a mistery as to where he'd gone, however, as the vent only wen't one way. Dillon tried to mirror the other's obvious care over noise and slowly wirmed out of the hole. When he dropped, a strong hand caught his upper arm and the crook of a metal apendage caught the other. It stopped any sort of 'thud' from Dillion's boots. The blond had hardly gained his barings before being coaxed over to a small sliver of light beyond what seemed like curtains. '_We're in the cove_' he thought to himself, feeling around blindly with his left hand in order to find the animatronic that was suppose to be there, but his finger tips met nothing. The cove was empty.

Figuring it part of the elaborate ruse, Dillon only shrugged and joined his companion as he glared intent out onto the main party floor.

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><p><em>It felt like a dream, like something that couldn't be real. My thoughts were whispy like summer clouds, unable to be grasped nor shaped. There on the floor sat two young people; one man, one woman. The man had some strange sence of fashion with his dyed purple hair, purple jacket, black dress pants, and red bow tie. The girl seemed more normal with a yellow tee and pants along with some orange tennish shoes. The real abnormality, one which struck me deep in the gut, was a large pillar of smoke, grey-green in color, with burning red orbs upon its face. It sat inside a circle, drawn on the carpet sloppily with what looked like marker. Stranger than even that, my eyes came to fall upon an empty form, a lifeless body motionless, but being what the smoke creature eminated from. It was what looked like an old Freddy Fazbear suit, molding and shiny from moisture. <em>

_My first thought was that of amusment. 'This is some serious dedication,' I remembered thinking to myself. For a bit, I sat and listened, trying to keep a mirthful grin from taking over my features. The smoke thing was talking to the two before it, showing some over-exadurated movements with tenticle-like apendages. _

_"Let him be your example!" his thuderous, but calloused voice roared as he whipped around and waved over a lone figure against the back wall. It looked like a young man, strong, definatly, with mocha-brown hair. He had a bit of facial stubble and could have once looked propper in fine atire, but his appearance was tattered by rips and blood. Cuts lashed over his exposed chest and stomach. His arms were riddled with bruises. One thing that shone out from the shaded courner were his amazing, brilliant blue eyes. The white in his left one had red coloration bleeding into it, but the right was shimmering, save for an obvious pain in his heart. _

_'These are some amazing actors.' I thought this because I swore I could see the glint of inner agony and betrayl in that man's eyes. It really made my heart swell._

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><p><em>I saw him sittin' there. Hardly clingin' to his bein'. One part of me mind was giddy with triumph, finally seeing that bastard put in his place, feelin' what I'd been feelin' for near twenty-seven years. But that better half of me was what I listened to. Such a strong, respected individual torn down by the knees, sittin' broken and back-stabbed by the only athority, the only command he'd ever known. Could I really blame him for doin' what he was told? I wanted to say yes, but... I knew it was the wrong answer. Still, what more could I do? He'd so soon just bleed to his end before I could do somethin' to help him.<em>

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><p>The smell was familiar... Familiar and rage enducing, sending all his internal alarms haywire. "The Mistake..." he murmered, mimicking a snort. The body of smoke filled out. "He is here..." he said, this time to his remaining loyalists. "Fetch him. Do that simple task which your brother could not." Both loyalists stood and fanned out along the resturaunt. Bonnie made first for the cove, closing the distance between their only wall of saftey.<p>

"We need to go," Foxy whispered. Dillon Shay glanced over at him, making some strange motion with his eyes before walking lazily over to the vent and waiting for a boost up. The sudden leasure of the man gave Foxy an angry twitch in his left eye. "Have ye no urgancy, lad?" he whispered, hardly above the noise the flootfall nearing closer to the cove.

"Should I?" Asked Shay, a tad too loundly for Foxy's taste. The red-head clamped a hand over his mouth and bared his incredibly sharp canine teeth.

"Aye, ye should, 'cause if ye doesn't get one and we get caught, I'll be makin' sure ye be the first one in the grou-" A figure lurched towards Foxy, gripping two strong hands around his wrists and tossing him back. Dillon nearly jumped out of his skin and actually began to try and scurry into the air-vent, but was snagged as well and thrown onto the molding carpet floor. Foxy turned his head to the man next to him, an exasperated and annoyed expression worn in place of his usual disinterest.

"Hrmmm... Two souls... Fresh, harvestable souls... The smell is intoxicating..." the smoke-being nearly moaned. Dillon would have laughed at it, but, at the moment, he was being held down by the girl's knee to his mid-back. It was hardly comfortible. Foxy tried to wriggle his arms free of Bonnie's vice grip, twisting and nearly flipping over in the process. His attempt looked as though it might have dislocated a shoulder, but the man hardly could care. He whipped around wildly, snapping his jaws at anything of Bonnie's that came too close during the struggle. At one point, that unfortunate part of the purple-haired man was his right index finger while trying to suffocate his prisoner. The sharp jaws clamped down and locked into their target, showing no signs of letting go at neither the screams of his victem nor the gush of blood from the fresh wound. "Restrain him!" Bonnie tried to do as he was comanded, but found himself unable to free his finger. Foxy glared back at the other, a smile on his lips and a devious glint in his eyes.

Dillon cringed at the painfull cracking eminating from Bonnie's hand. It was like Foxy was bent on taring his finger-

Before the thought could finnish, Bonnie quickly jerked his hand back, causing a sharp popping sound in his hand. Foxy was released and shoved to the floor, Bonnie falling to his knees and clutching his bleeding didget. Droves of tears swelled in his eyes, spilling over down his cheeks. His red eyes nearly blended with the sore hue of the white. Foxy sprung up, smacking head-long into Chica's side. She fell over in a daze, loosening up on Dillon who was able to wriggle free. He bolted to the door, bashed off its hinges, and ran like a bat out of hell. Foxy would have followed just as swifty, but something grounded his body in place. Above the roars of the demon, Bonnie's sobs, Chica's stranges groans, he heard a soft sigh from the courner of the room. He perked his hearing to the song of suffering and couldn't help but feel an old scab in his being re-open.

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><p><em>I took him by his arm and I wrapped it over my shoulders. He was hardly in the propper condition to think strait, but he knew when somethin' was amiss. I didn't care if he made the meegerest of efforts to fight me. I wasn't leavin' him there. He knew what it was like to be me and that was enough. Ye can always hate ye enemies, but with one shard of compassion, ye can be the better man. They may have never givin' the though of kindness towards ye a single second, but that doesn't mean ye can't think it for them.<em>

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><p>The red pick-up screeched to a stop in front of the building. Dillon wasn't sure why he made it do so, but the two of them needed help. He jumped out of the driver's seat and opened the back door. With some trouble from the brunette's weak struggles, they go him into the back of the truck and loaded up. They sped off, just as Bonnie made it to the door frame.<p> 


	5. Chapter 5: Realizations

A tiresome struggle had to be overcome to get the brunette inside. He didn't want to go anywhere with Foxy, or Dillon for that matter, as though he would have rather stayed at the pizzeria and died. Dillon had come to the realization that this man's wounds weren't some joke prosthetic, but real. He'd even touched a small cut in the man's arm while taking him inside and it oozed with blood and pus. REAL blood and pus. The smell was unmistakable. They'd finally managed to get him on the couch and Foxy was simply sitting on the floor next to him, a soft hand on his arm, probably as some sort of reassurance. He then glanced back at Dillon, who was standing in the kitchen of the apartment cleaning his hands, with a helpless expression. He didn't seem to have any idea on how to treat his 'friend's' wounds.

After a few moments longer of staring, Dillon finally moved to the bedroom, then to the master bath. He gathered some rubbing alcohol, bandages, gauze, and toilet paper. Shay wasn't a medical practitioner, nor did he ever claim to be. He knew the minimal amount in the field of treating cuts and scrapes, but had little to no clue how to deal with such severe injuries. They weren't life threatening, at the moment, but he was sure that if he did nothing at all, they'd soon get to that point. He entered the living room and sat down on the floor next to Foxy. The other man was just lying on the couch, eyes closed and breathing heavy. The struggle he put up just about wore him out. Dillon poured some alcohol on the gauze and leaned over to Foxy. "This is going to sting," he whispered, "If he tries to get up, restrain him." The red-head nodded and and stood up. He walked over to the arm of the couch where the other's head sat and pressed his hands down on his shoulders.

The man's blue eyes shot open and he looked up to stare at the other who only gave him an awkward 'I'm sorry' look. Dillon pressed the alcohol to the man's cut on the right side. He promptly kicked out, trying to free his arms and curl away from the pain-causing substance. Foxy only sighed and forced the other to look at him. "Freddy..." he breathed, "Please Lad. Calm down. We're tryin' to help ye."

"...Hurts..." The man, Freddy apparently, managed to gasp, voice labored.

"I know, lad, but it'll help. Just suck it up and when we're done, ye'll be feelin' a lot better." Freddy's entire body tensed and he clenched his eyes shut. It was apparent that he was trying to relax and ignore the alcohol's sting, but his body would shiver and jerk when it touched an open wound. Foxy looked over to Dillon as he began to dress one of the many open cuts. "What is that stuff?" he asked. Dillon showed him the bottle, but Foxy simply stared at it, tilting his head at Dillon. The blond sighed.

"It's rubbing Alcohol. It's good for disinfecting open cuts so they don't get any worse. You use it right when you get hurt then put a bandage or something on the cut and you should be okay in a few days, but that treatment is only for smaller wounds. His are much worse than that and I can see at least one that cuts down into the muscle. He needs a doctor, which I'm not. You know, those people that took care of you at the hospital."

"Can they fix him?"

"Maybe, but it'll take a long time for these kinds of injuries to heal. They'll probably leave scars. There might also be a possibility of internal injuries. I'm pretty sure that arm is broken, too." He pointed to the appendage which Freddy had lain over his stomach. Part of it had turned almost purple. Foxy let go of Freddy's shoulders and sat back down where he had been originally. Dillon had finished doing what he could and walked into the bathroom to put up his extra supplies. Freddy finally opened his eyes and turned his head to glare softly.

"Why...?" he asked. Foxy looked up from his lap and tilted his head. "Why couldn't you just leave me? It'd have saved me a lot of pain... and shame..."

"You don't deserve to die, lad. I can't blame ye for the things ye did to me or anyone. Whatever ye did wrong, I'm sure it wasn't deserving of this." He motioned to most of Freddy's bandaged form and leaned his back against the coffee table. The brunette sighed and turned his head to look at the ceiling, closing his eyes as if to sleep. Dillon came to the doorway of the bedroom and silently motioned for Foxy to follow him as he walked back in, arms crossed, but eyes screaming his apprehension to the skies.

When the door was closed, Dillon paced back and forth at the foot of his bed while Foxy stood by the door, staring and getting rather amused at the human's near breakdown. "Okay," Shay finally broke into the silence, save for the ceiling fan above the bed. "Care to explain?" he asked, trying to bring out some authority in his voice, but failing miserably.

"Explain what?"

"Everything. Start talking. Let's start with the pizzeria."

"Well, in short, we work for a demon who came to the Earth plane near to three hundred years ago. He wandered the earth for a little bit then in the 1970's found the pizzeria and got himself an idea. He possessed one of the costumes, Freddy's, and lured five little children into the back room and killed them, stuffin' their dismembered bodies into the suits and usin' their souls to bring the animatronics to life. He needed us to lure children away, kill them, then feed their souls to him so he could slowly gain enough power to harvest more than just the souls of the children. He was almost at peak. Then I showed up. I misinterpreted his instructions and made a very bad mistake. After that, he was weakened from not having a constant line of souls and confined to only the pizzaria and night security guards. I was punished severely. Now, since the pizzeria is being shut down, he used the majority of his power to change us so that we could walk about the human world inconspicuously and help him gather souls again." Dillon was now sitting on the bed, eyes wild and mouth agape. He blinked a few times, open and closed his mouth, then finally managed words.

"Well... Uh... That actually explains a lot...though it sounds absolutely crazy."

"The truth sounds crazy sometimes."

"Yeah, and there's a good example... If I could bring myself to believe that... Uh..."

"Ye needs more proof?"

"Yeah..."

"Well, ask me anythin' about past and recent events. It's a little blunt, I understand, but what more can I do without takin' ye back to the pizzeria?" Dillon sighed, gripping his hands on the edge of the bed.

"Uh... WHat's the manager's name?"

"Scott."

"How long have we been in business?"

"Almost thirty years."

"Who were our starting Animatronics?"

"Freddy and Bonnie. Chica was added in 1980 and I was seven years later."

"What's error code 101?"

"A secret clause in the Freddy Fazbear employment contract that states that any employee of Freddy Fazbear's pizza is legally sworn into secrecy and must deal with any dead or injured on the premises. There will be no talk about the dead or injured found on the property and if any mention is made to an outside source of events at the pizzeria, the violator will be 'dealt with.'" Foxy made quotation marks with his fingers, then crossed his arms. Dillon sighed, looking down at his feet, which dangled off the foot of the bed. His head was spinning. Only three people really know about the 'error code 101' clause and that was Dillon, Scott, and one Intern who was later found dead outside her home with a bullet to the head. No one ever found her murderer or the body of the man she confided in.

"Okay, I believe you," he breathed. Foxy's eyes went wide.

"Really? Just like that?"

"How do you know about that clause?"

"It's imputed into the animatronics' programmin'. Our brains are computers with the contracts downloaded into out memories. We have every rule and constant surveillance through our eyes, which are cameras to help with court cases... well, at least we did. But, enough of this trivia, lad. Freddy needs medical help and us sittin' here flappin' our gums ain't helpin' him." He opened the door and walked over to the couch. Freddy was almost asleep, but woke with a start when Foxy put a hand on his shoulder. Dillon Followed him and help get Freddy to his feet. He didn't fight this time. They put him in the back seat again and Foxy hoped in shot-gun. Before Dillon started the truck, he looked over at Foxy.

"How are we going to explain his injuries to the doctors?"


	6. Chapter 6: I promise

They had Freddy's arm wrapped up in a rock-hard casing. It looked like soft bandages, but when Foxy put his hand on it, he found otherwise. All of Freddy's wounds had been re-dressed and a nurse had to come and give him some eye-drops every three hours. They'd been there almost as long. Dillon sat on the small jutting wall that was in front of the window. They were on a higher floor than where Foxy had been treated and he could see for many miles. It was a beautiful evening. The sun was slowly dipping below the horizon and a soft azure hue was painted across the sky, blending with the orange and gold. It was cold outside, though. One could never tell just by looks. There was no frost on the window.

Foxy was asleep in an armchair off to Dillon's left. He had no plans of leaving anytime soon. Relatives of the patient could stay overnight and perhaps Dillon could convince the nurses that he was a cousin, but some form of bribery would be needed to allow Foxy to stay, only if the nurses asked, that is. They stayed a few more hours still, deep into the time of night where the moon hung low, just entering its ascent, and the stars dotted the wispy sky. Suddenly, Freddy awoke, sitting up quickly as though he'd had a nightmare, but fell back when he hit his arm on the rest of the bed. Foxy slowly drew himself from sleep, but with a soft intake of air once he'd regained himself. It struck Dillon as odd, seeing that they both awoke at the same time and in the time it was. Freddy looked around the room, blue eyes riddled with confusion. His eyes fell on Dillon and his body promptly relaxed. He then saw Foxy sitting in the armchair and was quick to look away. Foxy only huffed and curled back up to sleep.

"Good evening," said Dillon, trying to sound some-what proper. He'd try to avoid modern slang terms as it was already known, thanks to Foxy, that they didn't understand them. "How do you feel?" Freddy rested back on his pillow.

"I'm not sure what you call it, but I don't like it."

"Probably pain or discomfort. A little sick. You're on some strong medication right now to try and make you more passive and in little distress. Without the meds, I'm sure you'd be one irritable person." The sentence didn't sound right, but he was sure Freddy Understood. The brunette sighed, running his palm over his face. He noticed the condition of his arm, but paid it no farther attention. For a few moments, they sat in silence, the calm beat of the Heart-monitor being the only noise. Having the door closed helped. Finally he sat up and looked out the window.

"I want to go out there..." he nearly whispered.

"You can't until you've healed. It'll be a little while. Maybe three or four days and even still, you're arm will be broken for a few weeks. Months, actually. You can go outside with a broken arm, but you'll have to be careful."

"So, in three days I can go outside?"

"Yeah, maybe, if the doctors say it's alright for you to leave. But... There's an issue we need to deal with. Foxy told me everything. About you guys, about this demon you work for, the children. Seeing as that thing kicked you to the curb, I'd say you need some place to hide out or we can just kill you to stop you from helping it anymore."

"I'm not going back to him. He turned his back on me so I'll give him the same treatment." Freddy sighed, looking up at the ceiling. His expression was blank, unreadable. "It didn't feel right. I had always done what he told me to and never disobeyed him. I kept things in order, under control and I never made him mad. Then, all of a sudden, I come back and he beats me nearly to death for not returning with his body." He pointed to Foxy, again sleeping. "It's like the children. They'll be running around, innocent and doing nothing they proceed as wrong then their parents yell at them and it's all ruined."

"But you're not a child and he didn't just yell at you. He beat you, nearly killed you." Dillon walked over to the bed and pulled out another chair. "Listen, you don't have to worry about pleasing anyone but yourself, now. You're human. You're free. You have none of the supernatural worries you used to."

"And the normal worries of the human world?"

"Well, I can help you with that. You and Foxy both. I can teach you how to act, how to speak, what to do to keep yourselves alive. I just need to know one thing."

"What is that?"

"If I agree to help you, would you swear, on your life, that you will never return to that demon and you'll never try to harm anyone ever again?"

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><p><em>I weighed the possibilities in my head. Freedom. True freedom without dependence or debts. To be able to do what I wanted and go wherever. Or go back to master, be his slave, and deteriorate like any common pet. I was done. Done being a lap-dog. Done hurting people and having no free will. I had a life now. I had a life to live and I could live it anyway I saw fit and this man was willing to help me. I stole a quick glance at Foxy in the corner, eyes closed softly in deep sleep. I thought about how he would do in this situation. His idea of freedom. Being locked away for twenty seven years probably had him more than begging for an opportunity like this. To be free. No more closed curtains and out of order signs. Only open doors. Just thinking about it like that made even me giddy. <em>

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><p>Freddy made an 'X' over the side of his chest, over his heart. "I promise."<p> 


	7. Chapter 7: Rule one

To be standing among them, among the onlookers and the passer-by's like any other person was almost surreal. As the concrete walls had tumbled down and the sound shook the earth under their feet, a roar of voices let loose a wave of cheers to signal that it was all over. The place was gone. After they all left, though, even after the night had fallen, Chica and Bonnie stayed behind and glared at the rubble which remained. They were speechless for a while. They never thought they'd actually see it; but when times passed as slowly as it did, they were drawn from their trance and began to head out. They hadn't really any idea where, but they needs someplace secluded. Some place where they could speak to the master without interruption. Still, they were clueless.

Though this matter posed extremely vital to figure out, Chica's mind was focused on other things. Her eyes were almost to the ground and her mood was below it. Bonnie could sense it in the thickness around her. She wasn't one-hundred percent. "What's bothering you?" he finally asked, walking not far ahead of her down a busy street. He didn't look back. Chica only shrugged, but the gesture wasn't detected by her companion. "Hmmm?"

"Are we really going to turn our back on him? Bon, he was like a father to us."

"Chica..." the annoyance in his voice was more than plain. "He screwed up and that was his punishment. Besides, he's with them now. When we find them, that'll be the end of it." He jerked his hand firmly then continued to walk. The answer wasn't what Chica wanted to hear. She wanted him to agree with her, sympathize with her and express how upset it made him to do it, but there was no remorse in him. He didn't care what happened to Freddy, honestly. She wanted to puke. She stopped walking abrupt and crossed her arms, both out of cold and out of anger.

"This is wrong and you know it." Bonnie rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He approached her and put a soft hand on her upper arm.

"Maybe there will be some redemption for him. All we can do is hope. Best for now that we find a place to stay and consult master in the morning. He'll answer any of your questions and maybe quell your worries. Now, come on. Human's must have some structure for us to stow in." As he turned away, Chica felt some of the sickness in her soften. Maybe master would forgive Freddy. She could only hope.

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><p>"Fred please." The nurse pressed down on Freddy's chest in an attempt to make him lay back down, but Freddy was much larger than her and resisted to his best. The woman gave him a stern, scolding look and gave another push. Freddy finally gave up and laid down, an annoyed sigh escaping his lips. He was acting like a teenager. It made Dillon chuckle under his scarf. Foxy stood in the door-frame, leaned on it and arms crossed. He had little emotion on his face, but Dillon could see it in his eyes, he was entertained just as much.<p>

"When can I get up?" Freddy asked.

"Maybe tomorrow."

"You said that yesterday."

"We'll you're still in pretty bad shape. We can't have you walking around."

"If I'm sitting here having this struggle with you for the past three days, I think I'm well enough."

"I think so too, but I'm not the doctor. You'll have to take it up with him."

"I never see the doctor!" Freddy balled up his good fist and slammed it down on the bed. The nurse shook her head and exited the room, brushing by Foxy who entered and sat down at Freddy's bed side.

"Aww... Are ye poutin'?" he asked, poking out his lower lip. Freddy snorted at him, turning and looking at the other side of the room. Foxy wasn't going to take any of it. "Spent so much time with the wee ones ye've become one."

'_And you'd never know, would you?_' Freddy thought, planning on voicing it, but.. he stopped himself. It was out of line and no place for him to poke. Foxy'd been through enough.

"Aye, the silent treatment. So mature."

"Yeah, maybe you should try it sometime. The world would thank you." Foxy put his left hand over his chest and feigned a hurt expression.

"Oh, ye can't stop hurtin' me can ye?"

"Oh, hush before I really do." Dillon got off of the window sill and tapped rail of the bed.

"Both of you be quiet. My first rule of being human is that you are both adults. Act like it." Foxy stopped a grin from crossing his face.

"If bein' an adult means actin' like ye, then I'd rather be a toddler."

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><p><em>AN~ A short chapter tonight. I'm tired. This was two pages of RP to go over. <em>


	8. Chapter 8: I never blamed ye

The billowing smoke rose up from a drawn circle in the dirt. This conjuration was painful. It ached at his form due to his missing soul. He needed that traitor back, just for his power. None of his loyalists had killed more than he.

The demon glanced about his surroundings, finding an old wooden barn to be his residual placement at the moment. Below him were the only two left. One of them had worry in her heart. A downside to humans: Emotions. To be more precise, attachment enabled emotions that came by only when they cared for another of their kind even minorly. Still, in the grand scheme, it was alright. The demon ignored whatever thoughts plagued her and switched his focus to the male. He stood, arms crossed behind his back and chest pushed out in pride. He was always a ready follower, right from the beginning. "Have you located our missing link?" asked the smoke demon. Bonnie shook his head.

"But, we do have a familiar face. The man he was with was an old manager at the pizzeria. His name is Dillon. He's a resident of the city." The demon sighed, somewhat quelled that he at least had that small shard of information.

"Find him. Kill him, and bring the others to me."

"What are you going to do with Freddy?" Chica broke in, having to muster a reserve of will to ask. The demon snorted.

"Consume him as I will with the mistake. Neither are worthy of life." Chica knew better than to argue. She backed down slowly with a soft nod. What more could she do?

* * *

><p>He was so happy to be outside, despite the cold and the bleak weather. A harsh wind over-took the city along with an early snow. Freddy didn't mind though. He treated every breath of the natural world as though he'd never get another glimpse. Dillon couldn't blame him. Foxy was equally in awe over it all, but showed it in his own way. He was sitting on a bench in the hospital garden, taking in deep intakes of fresh, biting air. His eyes remained closed. He was savoring it. Their wonder was like that of innocent children, never being allowed to look past their bedroom window then finding the door. Without hesitation, they bolted into the world with every question about the earth on their minds. Dillon was sure they might have a few.<p>

Then, when Dillon looked to Foxy once more, he found steady streams of tears rolling down his cheeks. He was glaring at the silver sky, eyes brighter than the sun. His smile bigger than the moon. Never had Dillon seen joy ever in such a pure form. He couldn't even imagine how it felt. When Foxy saw him staring, the smile didn't fade, he simply spoke in the softest, meekest voice as to not disturb the Earth. "For twenty-Seven years I been locked away from the world. Now, all of a sudden I... I finally realize..." he sobbed, laughing to the kingdom in the sky, "I'm free..." His eyes fell on Freddy who looked at him with a mirrored grin. "We're free..." They had never been so connected to one another. They were a reflection on one another's emotions.

The sight just about brought tears to Dillon's eyes as well. Freddy walked over to the bench and, using his left arm, wrapped Foxy in a warm embrace. And they cried. They cried joyous tears of triumph. They were finally free from their binds and could see this world the way they had always wanted to. They didn't have to hurt anymore. They didn't have to be mistreated and alone. Out of the blue, out of the wind's whipping, Freddy spoke in a raspy, but happy voice. "I'm sorry for everything I did to you. I'm sorry for how we treated you." Foxy shook his head and buried his face in Freddy's shoulder.

"I never blamed ye."

* * *

><p><em>AN~ HELLO MY PEOPLE! I just wanted to really get this chapter in today while I was in the mood for writing. The entire part in the Garden was only four lines of RP and that really ticked me off. SO LITTLE EMOTIONAL BUILD. Eh, but what do you expect of an RP? especially a rushed one. I hope this is cool for you guys and I fully am aware that a LOT of this is no longer valid thanks to Scott. Anyway. I MOVE FORWARD! <em>


	9. Chapter 9: Black Eyes

_AN~ YO! YO! YO! I'm back. I really need to set up an update day. It used to be Friday, but that's not working. Anyway, I'm finally in the mood for writing again and I hope to really ge this fic done. After that, I want to know what you guys want. I really have no other fandoms at the moment, but I've narrowed down the topics: F.E.A.R. (returning to my roots), Another FNAF fic, or Jeff the Killer. Those are just what I'd like to do, though. If you want another topic, sure. I can work something in, so long that I have played the game, read the book, watched the movie, ex. Without any more delay from my rambling, here is chapter 9_

* * *

><p><em>The voice was hard to will away. The feelings that arose from it were more so. There was no either out of him and old wounds made it worse. There was nothing around him, save for blackness, no color. No light. He was sick on the inside hearing all the blurbs and whispers screaming profound and vulgar slurs in his ears. Just there, he fell to his knees, clutching at his skull with such force that his nails dug deep into the skin, exhuming a flush of crimson.<em>

_"You belong to me!" the loudest of the voices screamed. Every word shook his mind like an unweilding force of nature. "There is no escape from your own sick head." He shook his head vigorously, seemingly trying to knock the words away. Trying to will the pain and the aching to leave him. It was sewn to his mind, though. It was ever present and there was nothing he could do. "You are going to doom them. You are going to doom the world. You are going to obey me once more or perish with them!" A slow flood of blackness began to drip into his eyes like hour-glass sand. Slowly, the white and iris began to drown in the ebony flood. "Obey your master! Return to vessel-hood! Do as you were made to! Be the machine that I made you out to be! You are mine!" The black had taken over. There were but glints of shine left in his sockets. His hands slowly fell to his lap and he tilted his face towards what he saw as above. The whispers became louder, screams in which he recognized. The many voices he silenced._

* * *

><p>Freddy jumped as he felt a hand on his arm. It was firm and shook him lightly, rousing him from what little sleep remained in his system. "Freddy," came Dillon's calm tone. Freddy glanced to his left and eyed the man with a startled expression. "We're here," Shay finally managed, pointing out of the windshield. Before them sat a log cabin, engrossed with woodlands and an old, unkept yard, mostly dirt but with some grass and weeds thrown in. Dillon had decided, shortly before leaving the hospital, that going back to his apartment wasn't the best plan. He phoned one of his far family and got permission to use one of their old rental properties for a small fee, just until things settled down and there was to immediate threat. It would also be a calm, quiet place to teach Freddy and Foxy of the inner workings of the human world.<em><br>_

Freddy got out of the truck, stumbling on slightly numb feet as his boots hit the ground. He glared in awe at the aging structure, rather interested in it's rustic design. Dillon pulled the man out of his trance by tossing him a water bottle. "Here," he said. "Keep yourself hydrated. Oh, and can you wake Foxy up? He's lounged out on the back seat." Freddy nodded slowly and walked around to where he guessed Foxy's head was by the shadow in the window. When he opened the door, Foxy's head dropped and hit the metal side of the seat, making him stir rather frightened from his dreams. He gave light gasp before flailing lightly and falling from the truck. Freddy caught his upper arm with his good hand, managing to stop his face from hitting the dirt.

"We're here." Foxy sighed, standing on his own feet and freeing his arm from Freddy's vice grip. With a yawn, he turned towards the house and bounded inside with a strange energy. Something was off about it, but Freddy was bad at reading humans. They had so many more factors to their emotions than those of his previous kind.

It didn't take long for Foxy to find adequate comfort on the leather sofa, but Freddy would rather explore the large structure. On the upper floor, there was a small landing with railing that allowed him to see into the living room from a couch. There were two bedrooms and one bathroom. On the lower floor, there was a kitchen and dining room in one and down a small hall from the kitchen there was another bathroom to the right and two other bedrooms at the end of the hall. There was also a basement that could have been another house in itself. The entire area was carpeted in white with grey walls and black sofas. There was a small bed in the corner with white dressings and a television, rather old. Climbing back up to the ground floor and into the living room, Freddy found Dillon hooking up the flat-screen. It was dusty, but still looked in good condition. He eventually got it working after a wave of curses, then looked at Foxy who still sat on the couch. "Maybe this will keep you occupied," he said, turning on the channel guide. "Have ant t.v. shows you- Never mind."

"I like Spongebob," Foxy answered to Dillon's unfinished question, smiling. Dillon turned his head slowly, a comically confused expression on his face.

"How do you even know what Spongebob _is_?"

"They played it in the pizzeria sometimes. It was one of the few shows I liked. I had to occupy meself somehow." Dillon rolled his eyes, looking for the program in question.

"You're lucky. They are _always _playing that dumb show. It's got to be the most popular show on the planet right now. Everyone knows spongebob." He released another wave of curses under his breath. "I am going to show you some culture one of these days. You need to know what a good show is."

Freddy let out a quiet snicker from the archway. Dillon turned his head to look and sighed, motioning to the couch. Freddy understood and walked over to it. He sat down to the left of Foxy and relaxed into the worn cushion. He could stand a few hours of child's television. Dillon found an episode on and turned to the channel. He placed the remote on the coffee table then walked out to the truck. He had some few belongings that were required for the relocation. The episode of Spongebob was some strange one about snow underwater and snowball fights. Eventually Squidward went crazy and at that point, Freddy had stopped caring about logic. He'd seen a few tidbits of episodes where they had camp-fires so there was no use arguing. They managed a few more episodes, some where the character's inability to drive. Freddy's mind was fully screwed over when he saw said character driving a truck without any problem at all. It was then that he got up and snorted at the television.

"I'm done," he breathed, walking to the stairs. Foxy merely laughed lightly, never taking his eyes off the screen. Freddy made his way to one of the bedrooms, not caring which, and flopped down on it. Sleep was one of the new pleasures of being human. restful or not, it was such a bazar thing, like time-travel in ways. It made less desirable times pass like seconds. Nightmares be damned, he was going to sleep.

Downstairs, Dillon finally got things situated in the kitchen and began cooking what little he did bring, that being packaged noodles. As the water boiled, he walked into the living room, noticing an empty space on the sofa. "Where's the big man?" he asked the remaining being. Foxy looked at him, his left eye lightly drooped.

"Upstairs," he responded, "I think he got tired of Spongebob logic."

"Can you go get him? We'll be eating in a bit. He needs some food. He refused to eat at the hospital." Foxy nodded, getting up and climbing the stairs. He found Freddy in one of the rooms and nudged his still form. He was unresponsive. Foxy rolled his eyes and nudged slightly harder. The man moved lightly.

"Come, now, lad. I know fur a fact that no one can fall asleep that fast. Get up, lubber." A sudden jerk and Foxy was pinned to the floor. The ground shook with the force of the impact as Freddy clamped his hands tightly around the other's upper arms. They were face to face, Foxy's golden iris' meeting those of unrecognizable black. There was rage in Freddy's expression. So much rage. Foxy kicked out at him, seeing the blackness in the other's gaze and panicking. Foxy didn't know much about humans, but he knew for sure that they couldn't do that with their eyes. "Freddy! What're ye doin', lad? What be eatin' ye!" Foxy jerked at Freddy's right arm and managed to knock out the casted-apendage. Freddy's face slammed into Foxy's chest and the red-head managed to roll him off before grabbing the bottle of water from the nightstand. He poured the clear liquid into Freddy's face, seeing it on cartoons once or twice. Maybe it would work. It didn't. Freddy wiped the water from his face and lunged for Foxy again. The pirate moved quickly and jumped out of the way, Freddy hit the bedside table before collapsing from his still-weak body. As he went down, the back of his head smacked into the bed frame.

Freddy groaned, looking up at Foxy. His eyes were back to their usual baby blue. Foxy crouched before him, tilting his head. "Ye feelin' a-hundred percent now, lad?" he asked. Freddy gripped his brow, giving Foxy a quizzical expression.

"What? No! My head feels like its splitting open!" Foxy smiled with a sigh.

"At least it's ye. Ye'll be okay." Dillon slowly pushed open the door and glared at the two.

"Uhh... Is everything... okay?" he asked slowly. Foxy nodded.

"Aye. He just fell out of bed. We'll be down shortly." Dillon shrugged it off and walked back down the stairs. Foxy turned back to Freddy. "And that's the story. Got it?" Freddy tilted his head.

"Why lie?"

"Human's overreact. We've just settled in. We'll address the problem in time. Now, me stomach is trying to eat itself. Come on."


	10. Chapter 10: Mortal

_Bonnie gave an angry growl, backing away from the door and leaning against the railing on the upper floor of the apartment complex. Chica simply stood there, shaking her head. They'd been there but ten minutes and it was finally evident to the purple-haired male that the owner of the room, Dillon Shay, was absent. Perhaps it was the fact that their master was already on thin line, not wanting to deal with another failure. He'd made his intolerance for it plainly clear with Freddy. After a few more moments of standing around, scratching their heads, Bonnie stood up to his full height, and glared down the white wooden door. Chica felt her body stiffen. Something wasn't right with him. Bonny lurched forward, smashing the sole of his boot into the middle of the door. It only took one kick to break in the lock and nearly tear the door from its gold-colored hinges. The top hinge was entirely dislocated and the bottom hung on by a fine shred of metal. Bonnie stalked inside, slightly limping on his right foot. Chica mearly gawked at the open door before calling to him. _

_"B-Bonnie! What the hell?" He didn't respond but, had stopped in the small kitchen area. On a small post by the door there was a piece of paper taped there. Bonnie took it down and read it in a low mumble: _

**_Dear Margret, _**

**_Something has come up in my personal life and I need to leave for a few days. I've left the rent for the next three weeks on the table in my bedroom. If I'm gone longer than that, I'll send the additional funds to you via mail. Also, if you need to talk to me about anything concerning my apartment, call this number. It'll forward you to my uncle. Just tell him who you are and he'll redirect you to me. _**

**_Signed,_**

**_Dillon _**

_There was a scribbled number on the bottom of the paper and Bonnie gave a satisfied smile. "I think this'll please master. We'll have them soon enough." He handed the paper to Chica on his way out and began to walk down the stairs into the parking lot. The blond stared at his disappearing form for but a moment then looked at the paper. She took her thumb and dragged it along the dirty guard rail, collecting a fine bit of grime on it. She then pressed her thumb to the last two didgets of the phone number. When she lifted it, there was a dark smudge. _

* * *

><p>He couldn't help but feel tense. Something was wrong with Freddy and he had no doubt that their former master had some hostility towards them. Worse than that, Foxy knew he needed Freddy's soul if he ever wanted any power in the human world. Freddy's had so many other souls attached to it that the man was practically a power-plant for spiritual energy.<p>

Dillon and Freddy were fast asleep, both in the upstairs bedrooms. Freddy was at the end of the hall and Dillon was at the top of the stairs. Foxy was given the choice of the remaining two bedrooms on the ground floor or the entire guest apartment in the basement. Foxy didn't quite like any of them, having them be in secluded areas of the house, but settled for the place at the end of the downstairs hall. When the others went to bed, though, he got up and sat down on the couch, curling his knees into his chest. He was in no condition to sleep. The vastness of the house, the silence, and Freddy's earlier outburst... They all put him on edge. He couldn't close his eyes for a second because he swore with every fiber of his being that something was after him. There was a good chance that something was, indeed, after him.

Checking the clock, Foxy saw that it was two in the morning. He was used to being rather active at around this time in the morning, but now, his body was so groggy and ill-feeling. His eyes kept wanting to close against his will. A deep yawn escaped his throat and he forced his lids to stay from his eyes. Why couldn't he stay active? Were humans in no control over their bodies? Foxy had already been familiarized with many of the bodily functions thanks to Dillon, finding that those weren't in any control by the mind, but sleep was now another unoptional thing, as well?

The red-head slowly awaited the return of the sunlight, but the minutes passes like years in time. He watched the clock and only groaned when every side glance only advanced time by two minutes though it felt like, at least, an hour. Maybe it was a good thing sleep was forced upon him. It sure help him wait through these long time periods with a little more ease. When he was an animatronic, Foxy could just turn himself off by expelling the electrical current from his battery. He could stay inactive for as long as he wanted, passing time by simple deactivation. Time had no weight on him. Time was not an object. Now that he was above simple sentience, though, time seemed to have all the weight in the world. Time mattered. Time was what dictated everything he did. Humans all had such little time.

Foxy knew a little about different human ages and cycles of development. He could tell the difference between a baby, a toddler, a child, a teenager, an adult, and an older person. They had these looks about them coupled with their behaviors that defined their ages. He could tell that his body was probably in early adulthood, as well as Freddy's, but Freddy's was a little older, judging by his size, muscle mass, and facial details. It made sense. Freddy was older than Foxy by quite a bit. His literal age was around forty. Going by their bodily ages, though, Foxy and Freddy were at around twenty. They were young, by human standards. Still, the years, if they aged this way, would go by like seconds.

Foxy could recall this little girl. She was a tiny blond headed child. Cute as she could be, but she was a bit of a tomboy. She came to the pizzeria for years, always on her birthday. They watched her grow up, practically. Then, one year, she didn't come, or the year after that, or the one after that. Finally, after near ten years, a woman came into the establishment. She had a newborn in her arms and a man at her side. They didn't know it just then, but it was the little girl, all grown up and beginning the cycle again. Time had changed her so much. Time would definitely change them.

Dillon was in his late thirties, early forties (Foxy had never really asked.) He was an older man, in human standards. He didn't have very many years ahead of him and that scared Foxy. Watching people around him grow old and go away didn't really bother him not long ago, now, since he could undergo the same, he was horrified. He was no longer a timeless machine. He was a human being. A mortal human being.

"Foxy..." the gentle voice made him jump, nearly falling off the couch in alarm. He settled back down when he saw Freddy's eyes staring back down at him. They were so soft, but tired. "What are you doing out here? You have a bed to sleep on." Had he fallen asleep? Foxy looked to the clock and saw that it was nearly five. He glanced back at Freddy, running his single left hand through his hair.

"I couldn't sleep."

"Why not?"

"I be scared. I been thinkin' 'bout all these things that humans go through, 'n about the master, n' about what happened to ye 'n I jus'..." Foxy curled back up, resting his arms across his knees and biring gently on his left out of nervousness. He sighed, closing his eyes. "Fer everythin' good that comes out of bein' human, there are ten things bad that come out of it, too." Freddy sighed, sitting down next to Foxy with a gentle hand squeezing his shoulder.

"Then don't look at the bad. It can be hard sometimes, sure, but When I weigh the worth of these things in my mind, I find that one good thing can overrule ten bad. I'd rather be free and mortal, than a slave and timeless." Foxy smiled, sighing into his arm.

"s'pose so." Freddy patted his back and stood. He took Foxy by his arm.

"Get to bed, okay? Dillon wants us up at nine later, so get what little rest you can." Foxy stood with him and nodded, walking back to his room, Freddy to his own. There was a soft feeling of relief in his gut alongside a tender warmth. Neither of which went away.


	11. Chapter 11: Stronger than you think

_Above the usual rabble of his household, Rick had attuned his ears to hear the business phone in his office. He ran into the room and snatched it up before the third ring. One of his morals, in the line of his rental business, was speed. A quick answer always served to put possible customers in a good mood. He answered the phone with a hardy, sure, jolly tone. There was a male voice on the other end. It was a little deep, but still had some youth to it._

_"Is this... Rick Leam?"_

_"Yes, sir, it is. Can I help you?" _

_"Yes sir. My name is Bryan Simmons, I work at Dillon Shay's apartment complex with the manager, Margret. There was an issue with the rent money he left for us and I'd like to know where he is staying so that I can mail him some documents that should settle the issue." Rick continued with his happy tone. _

_"Alright, he's staying on two-thirty-three broomwood drive in Luxmon. If you don't mind me asking, sir, do you think you could put the manager Margret on the line so that I can verify?" There was a short silence before the other's answer. _

_"Sure." There was a little scuffling on the other end before a woman's calm voice came through. It was younger than Rick imagined._

_"Hello, this is Margret Davis. Is there a problem?" _

_"No, Ma'am, I just wanted to verify that I wasn't giving my nephew's rental address to strangers. Can you tell me the address of the complex, Dillon's room number, and the business phone number?" There was little hesitation, as though the person on the other end either had it written down or had it memorized well enough that they could recite it perfectly. _

_"Okay, the address is nine-o-four main street in Glenveiw, Dillon's apartment number is two-twenty-five, and our business contact number is eight-seven-seven, four-three-zero-six." Rick was satisfied. _

_"Alright, thank you ma'am."_

_"What was the address again, sir?" _

_"It was two-thirty-three broomwood drive in Luxmon." There was a slight pause before the woman came back. _

_"Alright, thank you sir." _

_"You're very welcome." They hung up and Rick returned to a hectic family dispute over home-made french fries._

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><p><em>Bonnie hung up the pay-phone, looking at Chica with the smuggest expression one could ever imagine. "I told you he wouldn't check the caller-ID," he mused snobby. Chica rolled her eyes, crumbling up the paper she was holding "See? Now we'll have the address to give to master and he'll excuse our lateness. I swear, I could show you more than Freddy every could." Chica threw the paper ball at Bonnie's head. It wasn't much, but it was all she had at the moment. Bonnie gave her a confused glare, raising one brow. <em>

_"You are no where near as good as Freddy." _

_"No. I'm better." Chica threw herself at the purple-haired man before her in an attempt to harm him in what little way she could. Her hands were caught, though, and Bonnie forced her face into the sidewalk. "I can name plenty of reasons why I'm better then your idol, but I'll only name three." He brought his lips to Chica's ear, making his voice but a bitter hiss. "One, I don't let my compassion blind me. Freddy's soft as a cotton ball. He's gotten that way. He started to feel for the humans after so long. Remember what he told us just days before? He was sick of it? Well, I'll tell you what, his heart had blinded him. Two, I have no limit. There is nothing, I mean nothing, I won't do to get something done. When there are no boundaries, things get done. And three, I'm still here and he's not. He got banished, shunned, because he wasn't good enough to take out that worthless lowlife. You'd be wise to agree with me, honey. It's the only choice you got."_

_"Freddy's compassion made him stronger. He was willing to protect the both of us because of it. Freddy's limits made him better. He knew when he was going to far and it made sure he avoided disaster, and Freddy's gone because our 'master' set over-the-top expectations!" Bonnie snatched her up off the ground and twisted her arms painfully behind her back. He brought his face to her ear tenderly with a devious grin. _

_"Now, now, sweetie. Talk like that'll get you in trouble. I'm sure master knows exactly how to deal with your insubordination." He drew out the last word with populous amounts of venom. "Why don't we go consult him." There was a sickening clack before the world turned dark._

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><p>For the past few hours, Foxy had just been staring out the window with a gentle, but worried glare. It made both Dillon and Freddy feel ever slightly ill. The red-head knew something was wrong, but couldn't put his finger on it. Images flashed before his eyes of darkness, blood, and screams so familiar yet strange rang in his ears. The unsettling images weren't really what bothered him. He'd seen worse, but those screams... He knew them, somewhat. He'd never heard them in reality, but he wanted to think he knew who they belonged to. For the past two hours, that was what he was trying to figure. Eventually, Freddy had grown even uneasy. Perhaps it was a sort of domino thing. Foxy's agitation must have triggered his own.<p>

Freddy came up next to him and stared out the foyer window for a few minutes. His eyes became equally distant, staring out on the silver, gloomed sky. A light trickle of rain slowly dripped from the heavens to the muddied ground. "What do you feel?" Freddy asked slowly, his voice just as distant as his eyes. Foxy didn't answer promptly, but Freddy understood the hesitation. When he finally spoke, his voice was almost a whisper.

"Fear... I... I'm scared... I can feel him in me heart, in me head and I just can't get him out..." His voice became louder, filled with distress. "We aren't free, Freddy..." He looked at the man next to him, eyes so big and beginning to leak the clear liquid. Freddy looked back at him, somehow mirroring the pain he could see deep in those golden orbs. "Unless ye can kill a demon... we'll never be free..." Freddy looked back out the window, his shoulders stiff and hands gripping his arms so hard that his knuckles turned white.

"Yes we will." His voice was so sure, so strong, so much so that Foxy envied his reserve. "I don't know how, but we will be."

"Well, I'm not as strong as ye. I can't do anythin', let alone do it right." Freddy grabbed one of Foxy's shoulders, forcing the other to look at him. The amount of rage and power in Freddy gaze was almost horrifying, like no rage in hell could match it.

"Then I'll protect you. I'll protect you like I should have been doing all these years. We may have hated each other before, but things are different now. You're all I have and I'm all you have. You don't have to like me. You don't have to forgive me, but he needs us. He needs both of us, so you know what? We'll put him in a corner. We'll force him to take drastic steps to get us. When he's blind from his efforts, we'll rip him up from the roots, even if we have to kill others, or ourselves." He took in a deep breath, trying not to let the fear in the other's eyes impale his heart. "Foxy, you're stronger than you think. You have all the power in the world against him. Do you know what happened to me yesterday? I don't have that power. You were never loyal to him. You never became bonded with him so you are our advantage, a secret weapon if you will. He can fill your head with all the nightmares and words he wants, but you'll never be changed by him. I don't have that luxury. Remember that." He then just... left. Foxy hugged his sides, looking down at his feet. His heart ached with fear, but his eyes now glowed with a rageful inferno.

Freddy was right. They would be free, weather through rebellion... or death.

* * *

><p><em>I heard them talking. The things they said scared me. I wanted to help them. This demon which was tormenting them was something that had to be dealt with, but what could I do? I'm a human being, not some demon hybred like them, and what happened to Freddy the other day? The more questions I asked, the worse the feeling in my gut throbbed. I walked upstairs, making sure to emit little noise while sneaking past Foxy. I made it to my room and closed the door before pacing, my usual habit when distressed. They were bringing a supernatural war to my doorsteps.<em>

* * *

><p><em>The pillar of smoke arose from his circle. His first instinct was that of rageful action, lashing out at those before him for their lateness, but the strange sight of seeing the female tied up coupled with a scrap of paper being held out to him caused halt. "What have you brought me?" he asked, more concerned about the paper. <em>

_"It is the temporary address of Dillon Shay. This is where he's staying currently. We went to his apartment and he wasn't there and according to a note he left his land lord, he has moved to another location for a long period of time. I think it's where he's keeping Freddy and the mistake, as well. I hope you can forgive my lateness, but this was my delay. I wanted to get this address for you." _

_"And what of the female? Why have you put her in binds?" Bonnie laughed. _

_"Well, she seems to believe that your wishes are wrongful and that she would rather join Freddy. I knocked her out and brought her back here to see if there was any use you'd want from her instead of death." The smoke being gave a low chuckle, motioning for Bonnie to move the lifeless form into the circle. With some small effort, he obeyed. A smoke tentacle wrapped around her and lifted her to the face of the monster. _

_"Yes. I might be able to salvage her."_


	12. Chapter 12: Stubborn Humans

_Night had fallen still by the time Chica awoke. She found herself in the loft of the barn, back to a support post. Around her, tied snugly, was an old rope. The texture of it had already rubbed her skin raw. Small piles of molded hay were strewn about the small upper platform and spilled over onto the lower floor of the barn. There was a bashed out window in front of her. The glass from which was lain about the area, having been kicked around by whatever had found the place prior to them. The blond quickly jerked her head this was and that. There sat Bonnie to her right. He was asleep with his back against a hay bale. In his hand was a metal pipe. Even in his sleep, he heard it like a rifle. Was he suppose to be guarding her? Chica scuffled around with her feet, quietly shifting through the hay for some item that would be of use to her. Her toe hit some glass with a little tink. Near silently, she dragged the shard over to where she sat. She was able to get it at her side, but her hands still had some trouble in getting a hold of it. Her fingers barely scratched at the smooth surface, but still no luck. This entire time, Bonnie hadn't stirred once. A heavy sleeper, thank God. Finally, one of her fingers flicked the glass back just enough for her to grasp it. She took the sharp end to the rope and the old twine snapped easy enough. _

_She stood and looked down onto the ground floor. The circle was empty, but that could change in an instant. She then looked at the window. It was possibly her only escape, but where would she go if she did? Chica then remembered the paper which Bonnie had written the address down on. He must have still had it on him. The blond glared the purple haired man down, gripping the glass in her palm as she walked on eggshells over to where he sat. He was still, save for his soft breathing. Chica slowly bent down and reached for his coat pocket. She stuck her fingers in and found it empty. A mental curse roared in her head. She went for the other pocket, closest to the metal pipe. there were two papers in there. She took both of them out slowly then opened them both up. One was the address and the other was a group photo of all the employees of the Freddy Fazbear's establishment complete with the animatronics who towered over the staff... Even Foxy was there. It was the day they got him. Chica couldn't help but stare at Bonnie's still image. 'What happened to you...?' she asked herself inwardly. She then stood up and walked to the window. Below the sill was a pile of old hay. She couldn't just jump down, but she really had no other option. Chica lowered herself down and hung by the rotting still, looking down at the pile of old straw. With a deep intake of breath, she let go. The landing was softer than she imagined, but it still hurt. After a quick once over, though, she found that she was uninjured. With a groan, she opened up the address, sprinting towards the edge of the field. _

* * *

><p><em>Bonnie opened his eyes with a grin. "She took the bait," he called down to the smoke being who had risen from the circle to glare at him. <em>

_"Had you any doubt?"_

_"She can be a little... half-minded." Bonnie climbed down onto the ground floor. The smoke being swirled a mass of fog around his tentacles, making a ball out of it. The ball suddenly shifted into many colors before an image became visible in its frame. Through it, they say landscape rushing past and an occational glance towards a wrinkled paper. They were seeing through Chica's eyes. "Hopefully she'll find the place for us." The smoke creature scoffed._

_"She didn't do this so she'd find the location. You could have done that, I'm sure. She has a more important role."_

* * *

><p>"You haven't touched your food. Aren't you hungry?" Dillon stared at Freddy who simply picked at his french fries. They were eating fast food again, something they'd grown used to over the past few days. The burnet shrugged, giving to expression. Foxy say across from him, lightly nibbling on his burger, but not actually eating it. "What's wrong with you two? You usually eat like pigs." They both shrugged in unison, making Dillon release an overexadurated sigh. "Can I get a <em>different <em>answer?" They both shrugged again, but this time with weak smiles on their faces. It was something. The expressions faded after but a few short moments. Dillon didn't quite like the silence. "So, has anything weird happened lately that you haven't told me about?" The two looked at one another as though searching for some aid, but found their expressions mirrored back to them. 'That's not a good sign,' Dillon thought. _  
><em>

"No," Freddy finally answered, but in a nervous, more awake tone than what he'd been talking with recently. He wasn't a very good liar. Dillon simply grunted, putting down his half-eaten burger and turned himself to look Freddy dead in the eyes. Freddy's own darted back and forth between Dillon and the table. "No, nothing has happened," he said, unable to keep eye contact. Dillon looked at Foxy who quickly averted his gaze back to his food and began to eat with forced normalcy.

"You guys aren't good liars, nor are you subtle. What happened? You don't keep shit from me." They both remained silent as stones. Dillon got up, walking into the kitchen and opening the carbonate. He returned to the table with a bottle of yellowish liquid. "This is something my mother used to do when I was little. Whenever I lied, she'd make me drink a little of this until I told the truth. Neither of you are moving until someone talks. If neither of you tell me the truth, you have to drink it." The two of them looked at one another with quizzical expressions. Freddy returned his gaze to Dillon, questioning. The human scoffed, uncapping the bottle. "Maybe you two need to know what Apple Cider vinegar tastes like." He reached behind him and took two spoons off of the island. He handed one to Freddy and one to Foxy. He then poured a little of the liquid into each spoon. "Drink up, boys." They looked at one another again. Freddy gave the liquid a sniff, finding that the smell wasn't all too bad, but that didn't mean much. Foxy would rather wait until Freddy tried it first. The burnet slowly lifted the spoon to his lips and sucked it down quickly. It was a mistake. A wave of coughing and hacking came afterwards, Freddy throat feeling as though the fires of hell were resting inside. Foxy glared at the spoon holding it away from in with a fearful glare. "Go on, Foxy, unless you want to talk." Foxy dumped the substance into his mouth and gave a similar reaction to Freddy's.

"Now that you know what you're dealing with, do either of you think you can withstand the entire bottle? I have another in the cubbard." Freddy sat up in his seat, a defiant haze in his irises. Foxy rested his chin on the table, but showed no sign of saying anything either. Dillon rolled his eyes, getting up and grabbing the second bottle. He shoved the first over to Freddy and the second to Foxy. "You both have ten seconds to start talking. If one of you talks, you don't have to drink it." They sat in silence for only moments before Freddy snatched up the bottle, tipped his head, and dumped the entirety of it down his throat with five large gulps before he shoved the empty container away. Freddy got up from the table with a cringe still holding his facial features as he climbed the stairs to his bedroom. Foxy swallowed some saliva before following suit, but it took him a little longer to finish the bottle. The burning in his throat was unimaginable, but he managed before throwing the bottle down and walking to his bedroom on the ground floor. His door slammed and locked behind him, much like Freddy's had. Dillon sighed, taking up the bottles and tossing them in the trash. He'd make a trip to the store later for more. It was going to be a long few days.

In his room, Freddy hung his head from his window and wheezed helplessly with a new bombardment of hacks and coughs. The taste and burning was intense. He felt like he'd have no voice if he ever tried to talk, if he managed to do even that ever again. Was that stuff even safe to ingest? It didn't taste like it, or at least he thought. He didn't think he could taste anymore, the liquid feeling as though it had burned his taste buds off. Though Freddy had only been with the man a few days, he already knew enough about Dillon Shay to realize this wasn't the end of it. He'd have to endure the stunt again and again. Freddy looked down at the window below his. It was Foxy's. Had Foxy taken the torture? If he hadn't, he might have told Dillon what was going on, thus making his defiant act in vein. If he had drank the stuff, then Freddy felt his pain. Every horrible, hellfire burn.

In his own room, Foxy was guzzling down a water from the night before on his nightstand. It didn't stop the burning. It didn't get rid of the acidic taste. Was the information really worth this? Why did Dillon want to know so badly? It'd only serve to bring more stress upon the man's already weighed shoulders. It must have been another human quirk which Foxy had been oblivious to. Either that, or Dillon was just a strange breed. The red head had collapsed on his bed, tongue hanging from his mouth to try and get the cool, outside air to relax the burning. Nothing worked. The man knew how to work an interrogation, Foxy'd give him that.


	13. Chapter 13: Bonds

The aching in his body was caused by a bone-deep chill which ran through his spine everytime he recalled the nightmare, most often when he attempted to find release in his sleep simply because he knew that there was a heavy chance that when he closed his eyes, the images and voices of influence would return. Maybe he would actually suceed in hurting someone if it happened again. Foxy was lucky the first time. Freddy doubted that the smaller man could do anything in his sleep if it did, in fact, happen again. At that particular moment, Freddy was finding solace in the white plaster of his bedroom ceiling, not really wanting to close his eyes past the ocational blink. It was an exhausting fight against sleep, but he was winning thus far. The thought of his other housmants proves enough to keep his brain rattling, good thoughts or not. Foxy was most prominant. If their former master gained control of Freddy once more, Foxy would certainly be the first target. Considering Dillon's placement in the house, Foxy probably wouldn't fall the first victem, but would be prime offender number one.

The ceiling fan spun round about, each turn bringing Freddy's eyes more focus on the spinning blades. They cool current of air it generated didn't do much to keep the place cool, but Freddy liked the quiet murmer is made. Silence always unnerved him. Silence was death. Silence was torture. Silence was a tune he'd rather avoid listening to, especially when silence was that which terror and blood krept about veiled in. Upon pondering the matter, Freddy found his eyes slowly beginning to heavily droop. The brunet willed the sleep away, getting up from his bed with a heavy groan. In the warmth from the houses heating system, Freddy and abandoned his night shirt, leaving but a pair of loose pajama slacks as his only clothing item. It was comfortible, though he wasn't sure if it was really decent.

Freddy slipped from his bedroom into the upstairs hall. He inched down the stairs and turned into the kitchen, walking on light toes to the fridge, which he opened, running a stiff hand through his messy, bed-ridden hair. After a short while of searching, he snagged a bottle of water. It would suffice for now. Upon closing the door, Freddy nearly jumped out of his skin. There in the lightlessness of night beamed two glowing amber irises, glaring at him with what seemed like hellfire. The brunet's first instinct was fight, but then he really looked at the eyes which stared him down. It was Foxy. The man had managed to sneak up on him. Considering the pin drop silence on the ground floor, Freddy was sure it was possible, also considering Foxy's bedroom door which Freddy was sure had been closed when he passed it. He was also possitive that the red-head hadn't been in any other room, seeing as the living room was dormant, he passed through the dining room, and the ground floor bathroom sat open with the lights off. Foxy was a talented little spy, Freddy's give him that.

"God, Foxy you scared me," He finally said after taking a few deep breaths. The crimson haired man gave a weak-hearted laugh and walked over to the island. He sat down on one of its stools, sipping at a glass of some white liquid that wasn't there before. Had Foxy already been in the kitchen?

"I'd say the same ta' ye. Me thought ye was another... apparition."

"Apparition?" Foxy waved it off.

"It be nothin', laddie. They dun hurt me as they do ye. I'll be fine. How about ye, then? Hard time sleepin'?" Freddy relaxed from the scare' initial blood-rush and sat down at the stool across from Foxy. He gave a tiresome sigh before answering.

"Yeah. Can't get comfortible. I guess I'm still getting used to... all this..." He motioned to his body before un-capping his water. "Still feel strange to you?"

"Aye, lad, but it be simply 'cause I can feel now. We were nothin' but machines before, unable to feel anythin' an' now we be able to feel more than jus physical thins' but emotions s'well. Sure, I like it, but even thins' ye like take some gettin' used to, especially thins' like this that deam big life changes." Foxy took another sip of milk before scooting his glass away along the stone counter top. Freddy sighed, drinking some of his water before putting the plastic bottle aside. It felt strange just sitting there and talking to Foxy, especially after all that happened between them years prior. Sure, they'd been talking some since what happened but never like this in such a casual way. It was definately the most words shared between them yet. Foxy stared for a moment, expecting Freddy to say something, no doubt, but the Brunet wasn't sure what to say. Was there any real response to that besides silent agreement?

"Uhh... Anything... You parcticularly like about it? You know, something that outdoes everything else." Foxy was the one left in silence this time, but more so to ponder than scrambling for words.

"Well... I haven't really been like this long 'nuff to decide. How 'bout ye? Anythin' you like in particular?"

"I don't know. For every good thing a human can do, there's some back-lash that makes me re-think it. Feeling means pain, interaction means stress..."

"Sleep means nightmares..." They both exchanged strange looks that neither could read. Freddy straitened his posture with a clearing of his throat.

"Yeah..." The brunet grabbed his water to take another drink, but Foxy took the container and set it back down on the table. Freddy stared at the red-head for a moment, not really sure what the other was doing. The look in his eyes were haunting. It was some stange distance that Freddy couldn't fathom, nor had he ever seen in Foxy's eyes before. Something deep was burning inside him and it hurt, Freddy could tell that much.

"Has ye been havin' bad nightmares, too?" he finally asked, voice like it was a million miles away. Freddy simply nodded, gently dropping his hand to his lap. "Is that why ye can't sleep?"

"It's more like I'm forcing myself to stay awake."

"Aye. Me too." He sounded so miserable, so broken and tired. It hurt emotionally to hear and see him like this, for what reason, Freddy was unsure. Perhaps some little bond had formed between them in the short time they'd been around one another and he had started to feel for the man. "Is' like I can't close me eyes wthout some grotesque blood-face screamin' at me. I feel like he be trying to get to me, but in all his efforts, though he can't reach me, he tried to make 'em all more disturbin' then the last. Is' like he be tryin' to drive me insane." Foxy cubbed the sides of his head, digging short nails into his scalp. "I dun want to lose my mind... I dun want to hurt no one..." salty tears pooled in the man's golden eyes, collecting to much so that they spilled over down his cheecks and dripped onto his black sweat-pants. Freddy didn't know what to do. He still wasn't sure of his own emotions, how could he deal with Foxy's? Despite these facts though, Freddy found himself wrapping a strong arm around the other's shoulders, quieting his weak sobs with a deep embrace.

Foxy was quick to burry his face in the other's chest, soaking his skin with his eyes secreation. Both of them being on a stool next to one another made it a strange position, neither of them showed any sigh of moving, Foxy being too absorbed in his pain and Freddy seeing that his action had somewhat comforted the pirate. The feeling was warm, as well. It was bubbly and soft in his stomach. He liked being around Foxy, though he'd never say it aloud. Foxy just had this way about him that made him seem so care free on his outer shell. Behind those walls, though, the deception was plainly clear, more so now than ever. Freddy had been seeing alot through the cracks lately, but this was what was behind those walls. It wasn't pretty.

"I be sorry, lad," Foxy finally sniffled, pulling away from Freddy. He wiped the moisture from his eyes. "I dun mean to put me troubles on ye. Ye has ye own problems to worry 'bout." Freddy simply laughed, pulling Foxy back into the hug.

"We're in this together. Our problems are each other's. I'm the only one you have to talk to about this because Dillon doesn't understand, so you can confide in me anything. Maybe it'll make up for what I did to you in the past." Foxy laughed, pushing gently against the other's bare chest.

"I told ye before, lad, " he said, " I never blamed ye. Me doesn't hold grudges."

"You have every right to."

"But I doesn't."

"You should."

" Me won't. Freddy, I's just not that kinda person, laddie. People change. Ye be a perfect example of that. I not gonna keep holding blind anger towards no one for somethin' they did before. Ye actions are behind us both." Freddy slowly brought his chin to rest atop Foxy's head, snorting loudly into his hair. The red-head responded by shoving the other away and getting up with a quiet chuckle. "Go ta' bed, ya ninnie," he groaned out of his laughter before walking back to his bedroom and locking the door tight behind him. Freddy snickered in response, doing as the other had told him, though risking nightmares. Right now, it seemed worth it.


	14. Chapter 14: Why is this working?

_My soul managed to relax, somewhat at the thought of her being gone. She was out of harms way, after all. Sure, I kinda wanted her with me, but for that to happen would sooner or later mean death to her for her defiance. At least Master found some other use for her. It felt like someone had released giddy insects into my chest when he said so. I could never say it out loud simply out of my fear for the pain, but I almost agreed with her. Sure, I said some harsh words to imply otherwise, but... I'd follow master still, but I HAD to make sure she was okay. After some convincing, Master agreed that we needed to keep checkpoints at certain distances away from her as she traversed towards Dillon Shay's last known residence. She had her share of confusion and misleadings here and there, but she was doing alright. I was actually genuinely surprised by her; a little envious of her courage, even. (Just a little.) Even before all this happened to us, she would surprise me everyday in what little ways she managed. I guess that's why I never liked Freddy, or rather how my disdane for him started. It later graduated as his annoying behavior and inefficient actions really got to me. I knew how to make our methods better and he just... He wouldn't listen! He was deaf to my opinion! He never cared about anything I had to suggest; anything I had to say. Thinking about it then at the third checkpoint made me seethe inwardly. And... And she looked up to him! Put him on a fucking pedastal! She never paid me any mind! Following his shitty example! __  
><em>

_I bunched my fists into such tight balls that the knuckles turned white. I could see her from my vantage in a dead white pine. She was meandering down a narrow foot path like she had all the time in the world. I only wondered what she would do when night fell again. City lights wouldn't guide her here. She came to a junction that I could see from my little resting spot. She was stuck. That made me laugh. She looked left and right and left again. There was no sign to guide her to the correct property and taking the wrong one would force her to have to turn back and reverse in the dark or camp out someplace near until there was enough light to continue walking. She had to have been tired by now. I was just following her at my own pace. Climbing was required, though. She stood there for a moment, glaring at the two paths. Each went on for about three miles so that the neighboring properties wouldn't have to deal with one another. What a walk she'd be taking. Either way she picked, she wouldn't make it before dark. I pulled a small booklet from my coat pocket, opening it up and tracing my finger over many of the lines strewn about its page. I found where we were and followed the correct path to Dillon Shay's rental home. It was on the path to the right, down another sub-path which was another mile long. The three other sub-paths on the same road lead to lake properties. She was going to make a wrong move somewhere, I just knew it. Just getting the idea made me laugh inwardly._

_I continued to watch with mirth and nearly burst with it when she chose the wrong path. She'd be lost out here for hours! Especially with the tree cover. _

* * *

><p>When he let his mind settle on the fact, Bonnie began to get rather uneasy. Chica was going to be wondering for hours out in the wilderness alone, in the dark. Bonnie had seen enough of the humans' worse and he knew exactly what kind of people were out there. There were murderers and rapists and kidnappers who also raped and killed. Chica was a pretty girl, defiantly worthy of attention. She was also small, considering Bonnie's general size and the size of most other girls he'd seen around the many stops along the way, so any average sized man could easily snatch her up. The idea made his stomach curl. He let out a defeated sigh and lowered himself from the tree, rushing as quick as he could to her last seen location without sounding like Tarzan and not soiling his clothes with natural filth. It didn't make the process any more graceful nor soundless. When he finally made it to the clearing, Chica was well gone and the sun was almost entirely gone. 'She went right,' he thought, ducking into the underbrush and down the side of the path where he was least likely to be seen. After near an hour, when the moon was fully in the sky, Bonnie had all abandoned care for filth. He was almost panicking. Then he came to the four way junction. There was no sign of her. Had she picked up pace to try and stave from the night? She still wouldn't have made it far.<p>

'Okay, panic time.' Bonnie entered the junction and turned about, glaring at each possible path. Night had veiled each in an equally eere shadow. It was even pin-drop silent. Not even the usual forest animals moved. Not even crickets. Maybe it was just him... either that or the forest itself was waiting for something. Or reacting to something. The thought sent another twist through his intestine. "She's gone... Something happened and I lost her... She's gone..." He couldn't help but voice it. The fear was even staining his usually angry tone. He'd admit it, though he wasn't sure why. He was scared.

A driving forced then rammed into his side. It was strong, but not too much so. Bonnie hardly even felt any pain from the initial impact. It was hitting the ground that hurt. All pain and confusion dissipated, though, when he saw her face. It was contorted in ill-intent and rage, but she was there. That was all it took to still the swirling in his uneasy body. "You're alright..." he said under his breath. Chica heard it, though, a jammed her elbow into his windpipe.

"Master gonna beat you if I'm not?" Bonnie smiled a toothy grin before coughing out an incoherent garble. Chica loosened her hold and he managed to answer normally.

"I have no idea. It wasn't master who sent me. I came on my own accord."

"Really? Well, you'd have to be right on me the entire way to be here now."

"Who's to say I didn't just catch up when you left the barn? You haven't been moving very fast. You woke me up when you jumped out the window. Your landing wasn't subtle nor quiet." Before she could retort with another venom-filled question, Chica was forced off of him, onto her back. Her head hit the dirt, but she somehow thought that it wasn't intentional. When he managed to pin her, a grin spread across his lips. It wasn't even one of his usual devious ones, either. Even his eyes had this dream-like softness to them. She couldn't have been more confused. What was going on with him? Not but two nights ago, he'd been rearing to mangle her, but now he was on the verge of melting her with some abundant reserve of charm. He didn't even have to say anything. Was that smile of his genuine? It sure seemed that way. Chica swore her heart was in her throat. The blond promptly shook his image from her mind and clenched her eyes tight.

"Are you going to kill me or rape me?" she tried, wanting some snide remark out of him; to get him to act normal. It didn't happen.

"Neither. I wanted to tell you that you took the wrong path back there. There is the same junction on the other path, too. I don't recommend going back this late, though. It's already too dark." His voice was so soft, gentle unlike anything she'd ever heard. Chica tried to shove him off, but his grip was like iron.

"You stay away from them!" The softness in his eyes turned to that of bitter pain. It just about broke her heart. Had it been anyone but Bonnie, it would have. There had to have been something behind this strange act of charm he was trying to dance her into. He suddenly got off of her, slinking away with a grumble. He sat on his knees, hands held in tight fists. Chica didn't move away, not very far anyway. She was more confused than ever.

"I try to help and this is still the treatment you give me? You're just like him..." She knew what he meant. It sent a burst of rage through her.

"You know very well why we're all apprehensive around you. You're like a hurricane. There's no telling what you'll do." He stood up, abrupt and began to walk down one of the side paths. Chica was quick to her feet. "I thought you said this was the wrong way."

"It is. I'm not going after them." Bonnie's voice was almost a whisper. Chica wasn't going to let him go just like that, though. She followed close on his heels, made sure he knew she was there. They didn't stray from the path. They just continued walking down the near pitch shadows until the moon came into view over their heads. It was in a clearing. In the clearing there was a field of frosted grass, glittering like miniscule diamonds under a slivered moon. Not far from this open pasture, there was what looked like a lake. The opposite bank wasn't visible, so Chica couldn't tell. She saw no houses and this allowed her to relax. Bonnie was telling the truth. Why did he come here, though? Why was he acting so different? Some plan was formulating in that sick head, she knew it. She wasn't going to be drawn into it, either. Still, she'd play along for a little while. Maybe she'd learn something. Bonnie had sat himself down on the wooden dock out looking the body of water, Chica was on his heels soon enough then to his side where she sat down with her feel hanging over the edge. She was far enough away that she was out of his reach had he any intention of attacking her. He remained still, though, sighing. He hugged himself around the stomach and looked up to the near lightless sky. The few stars that were visible reflected in those crimson pools of his.

"Why did you really come out here?" Chica finally asked.

"I already told you. Weather or not you believe me is your own damn business." It was bitter. Chica would have much rather had his charm back. His rage and resentment always made her uneasy. Almost sad, actually. Was it pity? She didn't know, simply looking away from him to see the stars which he was so intent on glaring at. Maybe she could calm him down if she spoke of something else.

"What if I do...?" Bonnie slowly turned his head to watch her. She didn't return the contact, but she knew that, just out of the corner of her eyes, she could see a glint of hope in his.

"You don't."

"That's why I said 'what if.'" Bonnie turned away, giving a quiet chuckle. The sound made a pillar of warmth rise in Chica's chest.

"I don't know... I didn't plan on you catching me while I stalked you." It was meant to be a joke, but Chica couldn't manage even a smile. He was trying that charm play again. She could hear it in his voice. "Are you okay?" he asked. It wasn't because she was staring off blankly into the distance, but just meant to be taken in general. She remained silent for quite some time before answering.

"As okay as I can be considering my situation."

"Why haven't you tried to hurt me anymore?"

"I'm curious." Bonnie stood up, turning and walking back towards the foot path. Chica was right on him again and in near panic when he ducked into the underbrush instead of following the path. She ran after him, trying to catch him before he vanished, but the purpled-haired man must have broke into a sprint as well. He was definitely able to run much faster than her, that's for sure. Her feet carried her through the darkness as though on autopilot. She dodged trees, stumps, vine snags, knocking loose frost and nearly melted snow. The biting chill was almost overwhelmed by her stinging lungs, filled with frozen air. The shadows coiled about around her until se felt like they were all that existed around her. Then she broke into the light. It was but a small clearing, barely large enough for her to stand in without bumping a tree's pine needles in any direction. Her eyes had just about adjusted to the dim light, but it was still almost pitch. "Great," she moaned, "I lost him." One tight appendage coiled around he waste, another on her arm. Something soft rested on her shoulder and a warm breath soothed into her ear.

"Not yet." Chica was quick to twist around and slam her knuckle into Bonnie's temple. The dark-skinned male stumbled back, feeling his head with an amused grin. "Ow, hun. That really hurt." Chica growled, backing into the brush as to farther the distance between them.

"It was meant to." She then lurched forward again, intending to land another hit to his jaw, but he caught her hand with inhuman speed and yanked her close. Her stomach was pressed uncomfortably into his as he leaned over her, pressing the arch of his forehead to her own. A devious, playful grin was plastered onto his face.

"Now, now, hun. That's not nice. Can't we just be civil and talk about this like human beings?" He was teasing, she knew. But the sweet sound of his voice had her tripping over her tongue. What the hell was happening to her? What was Bonnie DOING to her? She tried again to yank away from his grip, but, again, it was too strong. He wasn't even trying. "I have to say, though, I like that fire you got. One of the few things you've developed on your own." Chica nipped at his nose, attempting to bite down on its tip. She missed though. "You look so pretty when you're mad."

'Ugghh! Why is this working!?' she growled in her head, trying with her other hand to hit him. He caught that arm too, putting her into more of a bind that before. Then she remembered his finger, the one Foxy bit. She freed one of her own and pinched down on it with as much force as she could. Bonnie only smiled, cringing as well through the pain. He pressed their foreheads back together and tried to look her in the eyes without showing how much it hurt.

"Such a smart girl," he whispered, "I like that." There was no way to stop her legs from turning to mush. She nearly fell forward onto him. He let her hand slip free and she caught his shoulder. Bonnie wrapped the now free appendage around her waist and lifted her back up to her full height. Their heads met again and he could only chuckle with an amused yet gentle grin. He shifted his other hand so that their fingers became entwined together. Neither of them moved to break it. Chica scolded herself inwardly, not wanting any of this to happen, but her body screamed otherwise. It curled into him against her will and she just couldn't stop her face from moving closer to his. She could feel his breath mixing with hers. She could taste the last thing he'd eaten. Then, it all stopped. He stopped. He let her go and he moved away slowly. Her heart leapt then.. sank... disappointment? He shook his head, stamping his foot and smacking himself in the head, then just bolted off. She tried to get her legs to move like they had before, but she was a statue, a single rock sitting in the middle on nowhere now only clinging to the warm feeling that had once been there.


	15. Chapter 15: Truth

_He thought I couldn't see him. He thought I couldn't witness that which he wanted to hide from me. He couldn't have been any more wrong. It was human emotion, again. This time in the form of foolish lust and this time in the heart of the one loyalist I had left! I was going to show him what this kind of behavior got him. Upon my summoning, I lashed out at him, slamming him with a wave of energy against a row of trees and into the underbrush close by. When he emerged again, I beckoned him with an appendage. He was enough of a fool to approach to that. I dragged him into my circle and pinned him against the dirt, bashing another tentacle into his face. The sight of his bright crimson blood made me rumble with hunger. _

* * *

><p>Bonnie knew better that to retaliate. It would only make things worse. He'd just sit and take every lash, every bruise until his master calmed enough listen to him. It went on for quite some time. innumerable tentacles jutted from his smoke-form, each lashing out with the same ferocious rage which the demon was known for. Bonnie felt the bruises began to double and triple in number every moment the abuse ranged. Blood began to ooze from cuts newly formed on his chest, neck, and stomach, now ripped clean of his old dress shirt and waist-coat. His bow-tie was tattered and thrown aside in a heap of rags once making his clothes. All that remained know was most of his pants and a single sock. Blood soaked almost every square inch of him. Finally, after so long, the demon stopped. He glared down at Bonnie with his luminous orbs. His voice was a resentful growl. "You were told to remain away from her! You were told to stay unseen! Then you approach her, let your hormones command you instead of me! You will learn to respect my command, disciple!" He smacked another tentacle into the side of Bonnie's head.<p>

"I had a reason!" Bonnie blurted, trying quickly to stop the hurting. The smoke form straitened, lightening up his hold on Bonnie. He was listening. "It was... a... control play. You can see through her eyes but you can't hear what she hears. If I can get her to trust me, just a little, I might get us a better advantage than we already have." The demon tilted his head.

"You tell me of such plans, worm!" he smacked Bonnie again, but lighter than before. "You are acting out far too much. You are beginning to get adventurous and I don't appreciate such things." The smoke tentacles coiled around the human's form, lifting him up and almost entirely covering his soaked body. The pain from the previous beating suddenly ebbed, then vanished entirely. When He set Bonnie down, all oh his wounds were nonexistent, but the demon buckled over slightly in pain. "I know how to fix that..." Another appendage took hold of Bonnie's throat, not too much so that it choked him, but still tight enough that the man didn't flinch away. Suddenly, an intense burn singed into Bonnie's flesh, imprinting a permanent scorch in a thin line around his neck. When the tentacle released, Bonnie jumped back, feeling his stinging throat with both his hands, his wounded finger even repaired. One of the demon's tentacles morphed into a three-fingered grasper. The hand reached out and suddenly flexed its palm. The mark around Bonnie's throat began to burn a heated yellow, almost white. All of a sudden, Bonnie couldn't breathe. His throat was constricting, tighter and tighter until his face was near the same shade as his hair. Then, the demon released. Bonnie fell to his knees, coughing exasperated. "There will be no more insubordination... Am I clear?"

* * *

><p>Another meal, another vinegar torture. Foxy thought his vocal cords would burn out if he took any more of it. Even Freddy's rock hard expression was now melted in defeat. Dillon sat at his end of the table, glaring at them, arms crossed as though expecting them to break. They weren't even allowed to leave the table anymore until nightfall. They'd have to endure the pain for near two more hours, no water, nothing. He didn't think he could take it. Dillon eyed him. "Anything to say, Foxy?" he asked. The red-head snorted at him, being the only response he could muster. Shay turned his attention to Freddy with a raised brow. He said nothing, but his expression told Dillon all it needed to. "Well, we have two more bottles. Maybe we should finish them tonight. Get it out of the way." He went to stand and make his way into the kitchen.<p>

"I got possessed..." Dillon froze half way there, turning and stopping at Freddy's side. "I got possessed," Freddy said again. "You know that demon Foxy told you about that used to control us? Well, he hasn't lost all hold on me. He's been invading my dreams and taking control of my mind while I sleep." Foxy slammed his head into the table. He moaned into the wood. Freddy growled at him. "Keeping this game us is ridiculous, Foxy. It's time we come clean."

"Me could've taken days more, Bambi!"

"You say that now, but you'd think otherwise if faced with the possibility."

"Hush! Now, Freddy, when did this happen?" asked Dillon.

"Last week. When Foxy told you I fell out of bed."

"Why hide it from me?"

"We didn't want to worry you. You've done so much for us already and bringing such a burden on you wouldn't have been right." Dillon rolled his eyes, walking into the kitchen and opening the shelf. He grabbed to glasses, to Foxy and Freddy's relief, and proceeded to get the milk from the fridge. He slid the glasses to them and they greedily accepted the release. Foxy was first to finish and Dillon directed his next question towards him.

"Have you been messed with, too?"

Foxy shook his head. "Nay, laddie. There be somethin' wrong with me soul. I was never bound to that demon, nor was I loyal. He can't posses me." Dillon hoped it was the truth. Freddy finished his glass and wiped his mouth clean. He sighed and rolled his head back with a relaxed smile. He was glad the interrogation was over. Dillon really began to look at them. They were dressed in some of Dillon's old clothes, not very comfortable nor in their tastes. Freddy's scars were fully visible from under the tank-top. Foxy's, much older and more-so healed, were also showing under the only shirt he could fit into. Foxy was much thinner than Dillon had first thought. Under his baggy pirate shirt, there was a thin, but still strong, frame. The appearance of the two was sad, to say the least. Dark rings had even formed around Freddy's eyes.

"Well," Dillon Began, "You two don't seem too concerned by that. I guess things are alright?" They nodded. "Okay then. Maybe you need some time out of the house. How about we head into town and get you some new clothes?" Freddy opened one of his crystal eyes, raising a dark brow at Dillon's suggestion.

"Why?"

"Because you both look like bums. If anyone comes over here like my uncle, I'll be embarrassed to be seen with you. Come on. Go get cleaned up and we'll leave." Freddy was slow to his feet, groaning and cringing against the stressing cuts and stitches about his Body. Foxy couldn't have been any different. He rose to his feet like a wildfire had erupted on his socks. He bounded upstairs and nearly tore the door off of Dillon's bedroom. He must have really wanted to get out. 'Figures,' Freddy thought. Before he even made it to the first step, a knock came to the door and Freddy was forced to answer, seeing as Dillon had gone after Foxy to help him find something half-decent to wear. When he opened the dark wood slab, his heart dropped through the floor.


	16. Chapter 16: Familiar Faces

He who stood before Freddy now was a middle aged man, just short if Freddy's height. He was thin, but in decent shape, with short black hair. The eyes which stared into Freddy's, filled with confusion and some form of startle, were so familiar and Freddy needn't any time to realize why. "Uhhh..." was the simple noise to escape the man's lips, "I'm looking for Dillon Shay... Am I at the right house?" He looked at the metal address numbers screwed on next to the door. Freddy just stammered in response, causing the man to look at him again. Those eyes weren't making it any easier.

"Yeah," he finally burst, causing the smaller man to jump, "Yeah, he's upstairs, I'll go get him." He turned, but then spun back on his heels. "Uh, it's cold... Come in?" He stepped aside and allowed the other inside who gave a gentle nod before stepping in and taking a seat on the nearest arm chair. He leaned his elbows on his knees and watched Freddy with those burning orbs, blistering the brunet's back with this subtle fire as he walked up to the higher floor. Dillon was on his room, handing Foxy a pair of blue jeans and a black t-shirt. He glanced at Freddy before tossing a similar outfit his way. The brunet caught it, but quickly set it down, making the urgency in his voice as clear as manageable.

"What is it?"

"Uhh... Can you explain to my why a former night guard has showed up at our door-step asking for you?" Dillon straitened his back, dropping the white dress shirt he'd been holding.

"Oh. I called him. Hold on." He trotted down the stairs and met the black-haired other with a smile and friendly hand-shake. "Michael," he exclaimed, "I didn't expect you to be here so soon. The trip should have taken a day longer, at the most."

"I'd rather you call me Mike, and yeah, I avoided rest stops. You sounded urgent. Anyway, what was it you needed me for again? I don't recall you mentioning on the phone."

"That's because I didn't. It's something you don't need to say on an open phone line." Dillon turned to the stairs. "Guys, can you come down here?" Soon after, Foxy came trotting down, followed by Freddy. The Red-head was dressed in his fresh clothes, but Freddy was still in the worn muscle shirt and pajama pants. They stood next to Dillon and the recognition lit up promptly in Foxy's eyes, but the man didn't voice it. Mike simply stared at the two for a moment before returning his attention to Dillon.

"So... What did you need?"

"Well, Mike, you worked at Freddy Fazbear's for nearly a month before quitting. I'd say you were almost fully aware of some strange happenings around the building in that time, am I right?"

"Strange happenings? That shit hole was haunted! You people plunged me into the fray without prior warning and I had to find out the hard way!"

"Listen, I didn't know until just recently, thanks to these two." He motioned to Freddy and Foxy. "Do you know who these men are?" Mike shook his head, crossing his arms.

"No."

"Michael, really **look** at them." Mike began staring again and pinched his chin. He cringed his eyes, tilted his head this way and that and still couldn't find it in his head. He glared at their faces, their attire, their scars. Nothing really rang a bell. Then his eyes fell upon Foxy's right stump. The image struck something in his mind, but the connection was weak. Then he saw his eyes. They were on fire with a burning, gold glow that stared through his as though he were made of glass. Mike turned to the brunet. He look at his eyes and felt a sinking ache in his stomach from their crystal blue, usually a beautiful color but on this man, haunting. Mike dropped his hands, shaking his head and taking a step back. That step ran him into the coffee table and tripped him back against the couch.

"No," he stuttered. "This... This joke, Dillon... It's not... It's not fucking funny! Do you have any idea what that place did to me? I was in and out of nut-houses for years! Now you call me here and make a fucking joke about it? Is this some sort of sick game you like to play as if shoving me into the pit of hell blind folded wasn't enough?"

"Michael, no! It's not like that! I wasn't manager during your employment and I was just as messed up by that dump as you were. This isn't a joke. You saw the things that happened there! You know this is fully possible! That building as cursed by Satan and you **know** that this could happen! Anything could happen!"

"How, then? How did it happen?" Freddy was the one that answered.

"Whenever the building was condemned by the Heath Administration, it angered a very powerful demon who fed off of the souls which we brought it. Without the establishment, we'd be locked up or scrapped and unable to help him so he made it so that we could move about the human world inconspicuously." Mike only stared blankly at him, causing the brunet to back down and break eye contact. Foxy wasn't so easily shoved aside.

"Our only proof of this be just about rubble b'now. T'best we can do is have ye question us 'er somethin' a'the like. What'er ye can think'f." Mike was still silent, but his stare never broke Foxy's. After near five minutes of their contest, the blood-born human was the first to speak.

"How does it feel?"

"Like nothin' any human mind could e'er comprehend. It's like... I knew nothin' then... all'a sudden... I can see and feel and smell everythin'..." Freddy almost laughed at the wispy wonder in Foxy's eyes. It was merited, sure, but slightly childish. Mike simply snorted, standing from where he'd fallen moments before. He straitened out his clothes and looked to Dillon with a falsified sense of proper.

"So, you have these two supernatural monstrosities. What do you need me for?" the man tossed aside angry glares from Freddy and Foxy and continued to stare at Dillon until an answer was given.

"You've seen him."

"Who?"

* * *

><p>She'd been wandering the woodlands for almost the entire day. The sun was almost below the horizon. Was she looking for Dillon Shay's home? Not anymore. She'd put that task aside the night before. Now, she was looking for the purple haired man she'd encountered the night before. Bonnie was top priority at the moment. She'd reason in her head that it was because he was a threat, but one little voice in the back of her mind screamed truth and she was starting to have some trouble ignoring it the more she thought about him. He made her stomach boil in a somewhat soft, comfortable heat. He also irritated her to no end, not to mention was a crazy son of a bitch. He was, as she told him the night before, like a hurricane. Always had been. Broken windows, doors, and tables never seemed to bother him until he was admonished by either her or Freddy but if it were Freddy he'd show some sort of aggravation or would even lash out at him. As a human, he was faster, more mobile, more capable of damaged to a larger number of humans. There was no telling what he'd do.<p>

Hours dragged on and before long, the moon was slowly drifting into the sky. Darkness was settling as it had the night before, but much less pit-less than before. The trees were still a mass wall of black, but at least she knew that there were no demons behind it to drag her under of she broke through said wall. She wasn't going to stop for the darkness, though. 'Maybe he's watching me,' she thought. 'If I seem lost or distressed, maybe he'll come to me.' She began to turn around erratically, intentionally of course. She threw her hands down to her sides with a sigh so loud it almost echoed. There was little more than silence around her. Small animals scurried, birds and bats fluttered about, startled by her. Nothing more. 'Well that didn't work.' She pinched the bridge of her nose and sat down in the grass.

"You okay?" The voice made her heart jump. Chica was quick to get up and turn around, finding the man she was looking for leaning against a tree. His clothes were nearly gone, though. What little of them that was left were tattered beyond repair. She eyed him with partial worry and partial caution.

"What happened to you?" She took a slow step towards him. He grinned softly with a grunt.

"Master didn't quite like it when he found out about last night."

"Then why did you come back?"

"Some people are just worth the pain." He said this with a shrug. Chica took another step, close enough to him now that she could touch him. He moved nothing but his crimson eyes to watch her. "So, why are you still lost out here, sweetie?" She didn't answer, looking him over as best she could in the dark. If he hand any wounds, she couldn't see them in the dark. "Hmm?" Her eyes shot up to meet his.

"What?" She hadn't heard him. Bonnie laughed, making Chica's face heat up again.

"I asked you why you were still out here."

"Oh... I..." she couldn't just tell him that she'd been looking for him, could she? What would he think? What snide comment could he utter towards such an answer? She took her chances. "I was looking for you..." She could see his pure white teeth through the shadows as he smiled wide at her.

"Why?"

"I don't know..."

"You don't know?"

"No. I don't."

"I think I do." He leaned towards her, unnoticed by Chica who's face was towards the ground. When she looked back up, their foreheads pressed together. Whatever comeback she had come up with disappeared with one little stare. She watched his eyes so intent that she didn't realize whenever his arms wrapped around her. It was so warm, so gentle that she hardly believed that it was actually Bonnie who was doing it. Bonnie was aggressive. Bonnie was bitter. Bonny was... holding her... His touch was just so... sweet. His hand ran up her back and lightly stroked it from atop her shirt. It made a wave of pin-pricks arch up her back, under her skin like jittery bugs. It wasn't a disgusting chill, though. It was... 'wonderful... Why is he being so... amazing? More importantly, why am I falling for him?' Chica erased the last question from her memory. 'No, I'm not falling for him. His stupid purple hair, his weird grin, his bright... warm eyes. His gentle touch... his... Gah!' No matter how hard she tried to convince herself of all this, the more those words became false. She was falling hard. He pressed his cold nose her her cheek and let his breath puff against her lips a moment in visible clouds. Chica soon began to breath so heavily that she was practically gasping for air. Her fingers clung to his shoulders so hard that they left marks along his dark skin. Then, their lips met. They collided gentle and held there. Chica's head swam in a pool of warm and mixed emotions. Shock, surprise, disgust, and lust all smashed together and swirled in a torrent of deep, craving want. There was no way around it. It felt like hours passed as they stood their, eyes closed in sweet delectation. Bonnie then slowly pulled away, breaking the clasp with a soft smack. It left the women with a throbbing in her heart and deep want in her eyes. He could see it and he didn't deny that the same look glazed his own. "I'm sorry for running away before. I should have done this last night... let you know..."

"Let me know what?"

"How I feel... about you... Chica... I... I can't side against you, but I can't go against master either. Circumstances have changed." He clung to her tighter. "I Promise, though, I won't... hurt you. Cross my heart." He pressed his lips to hers again then released, backing away. "I'll stay here with you tonight so you can sleep, but, in the morning, get to the house. Get someplace safe. Do what you can." He kissed her cheek twice before pulling her down as he sat to wrap her in his arms and let her relax in his lap. She was surprised, at first, but came to accept the strange position as she drifted into a comfortable lull.


	17. Chapter 17: Outlet Malls

Dillon slammed the truck door with a sigh, glaring at Mike with obvious exhaustion and distress. "Just- Whatever arguments you have, please let it wait until later. However much you think you're going through, those two," He looked up at Freddy and Foxy who were waiting just far enough away to where they couldn't hear Dillon outside the outlet mall, "Are going through ten times more. Now, come on." Mike was reluctant to even approach Dillon's cabin, and now he was helping him shop for psycho monsters who tried to kill him. It was already becoming a fun evening.

Their trip began at some outlet called 'Loathe's.' They sold casual jeans, polo, tennis shoes, and small jewelry items. Freddy was quick to find a comfortable outfit, that being a white button-up and a pair of dark blue jeans, but Foxy wasn't interested in anything the store had. He'd mumble to himself about a shirt being too plain or some pants not having any 'wow factor.' At one point, Mike leaned over to Dillon and whispered, "Do you think he'd rather go to a costume warehouse?" The comment was rebutted by a hard elbow to the side. It became clear that Foxy wasn't going to find anything here. They bought Freddy's small selection then walked around for awhile. Nothing caught the red-head's eye. It was a little disheartening to him. Freddy, on the other hand, was in an alright mood. His arm was beginning to irritate him in its sling, but other than that, he enjoyed the fresh air of the outlet mall. Dillon liked getting out of the house. He was never an indoor person. When he was younger and his parents worked, he'd find every reason to try and get his grandmother to, at the least, take him to the super market so that he wasn't cooped up all day. Mike was having mixed feelings. Sure, he liked the outlet mall well enough, but the strangeness of the two... somewhat-humans deemed nerve-racking. He hadn't at all gotten to know them yet. Foxy, from what he could tell, was shy and quiet around strangers. He didn't like being stared at and responded to stares by either turning or walking to another area out of view. Freddy was also quiet, but would give a forced smile at those who looked at him, sometimes even a wave. He let stares bounce off him and didn't at all mind attention. He was probably used to having eyes on him from his years on stage. He'd never gotten THIS kind of attention before though. There were few that worried about his injuries and some who liked the way he looked. Freddy was a handsome human. He was well built, strong, and even eye candy. Foxy was a looker, too, but his shyness and tendency to slink away from attention diverted gazes.

They weren't bad at all, just by observation, but this was in public. Mike didn't hope to stay around to really see who they were, though. He wanted to give Dillon what he needed then leave. He wanted to forget about them and go back to his half-baked life. "What about there?" Freddy's voice broke into the silence between the four of them. Foxy perked up promptly and smiled at a store across a small courtyard. The logo was bright red and the actual outlet door was different from all the other doors. It was like a metal support beam that had been bent into an arc. The logo read 'Hot Topic.' Mike and Dillon both rolled their eyes, being entirely familiar with the store. It sold a lot of hipster, gothic, and generally nerdy clothing. Dillon wouldn't lie, though. He could imagine Foxy wearing any of it. The style suited him well enough. They went inside and Foxy was imminently taken back by all the strange designs and logos. Bright red contrasted against black bases and neon blended with creamy white. A lot of the 'meme Ts' made him laugh and many of the hoodies and shirts kept him looking for very long periods of time. Even Freddy was beginning to find interest in some of the small trinkets he found on the jewelry racks. Last he checked, Mike thought he saw the burnet looking at a dull-gold compass on a matching chain. It was quite nice, actually. Finally, Foxy approached Dillon with an outfit he'd picked. Thankfully, it was normal. He had loose black jeans, a 'Deadpool' hoodie (even though Shay was positive Foxy had no idea who Deadpool was), and a black T-shirt with the 'Good With Grenades logo' on it.

Finally, Dillon forced both of them to pick a pair of shoes. "You can't keep borrowing mine," He told them. Foxy picked a pair of plain white tennis shoes from 'Hot Topic' and Freddy grabbed some dress shoes from 'Shoe Carnival.' One outfit each would do them for now, or at least until Dillon scrounged some more money. His last liability check from Fazbear entertainment would come in a little less than a week. It wasn't much money, as Fazbear entertainment didn't have much, but it would have to stretch.

* * *

><p><em>How they could just so easily leave the safety of their abode without worry amazed me. I, myself was worried, though. Chica wasn't with them. When she awoke but a few hours after falling asleep, persisting on continuing to the house I had hoped she'd get there. I'd followed her half way at a distance. Maybe she had just gotten there too late. I prayed that she was waiting and not wandering around in the dark. Humans still scared me as much as they irritated me. She could easily be hurt by one of them. I let my brain shake the thought of her aside. I had a job to do. I had managed to steal some new clothing from a closed outlet not long before they had finished their own transactions, leaving me in a black T-shirt, a purple leather jacket, Black cargos, and some red-converse tennis shoes. It was a little miss-match to me but it was better than nothing. That wasn't why I was there, though.<em>

_In my pocket I fiddled with the handle of a small pocket blade. The item had been on the sleeping form of a street sleeper. It was obvious that he didn't need it at the moment so I found my own purpose for it. Of course I had taken the time to summon master for the okay to proceed not long before I left for the outlets. I needed a chance, though. I was one person, I couldn't do much if I just went at them. I might surprise them, but Freddy has always had this fight response to things that startle him. Foxy, on the other had, usually tended to curl up or slink away. He was my target. Sure the little bugger was fast if given time to prepare, but I knew for a fact that he wasn't good at bolting. He start was always slow, even before we were like this. This was because of one thing, one thing which I counted on transferring over to his new body: A bad knee. Shortly before we closed up, Freddy and Foxy got into another fight. Freddy kicked at Foxy's bad knee, making it worse. He seemed to be walking on it just fine, but I hoped that his running was also hindered farther beyond what it used to. It was my chance. I just needed a window to get to it. I got my window. Before breaking from the actual building into the parking lot, Foxy stopped to pick up something Dillon Shay had dropped. He hadn't seemed to notice himself dropping it and continued walking with another man. I slunk up to the corner of an outlet, knife in hand. Foxy was struggling with his own items and that which had been dropped, making things so much easier. It was almost a shame. I was hoping for a little more of a challenge. Without any more hesitation, I bolted. Things don't often work out for me. They always go wrong, but for once in my existence, something better came out of this in my favor. Before I got close enough to dig the blade into Foxy's side, Freddy stepped between us... facing away from me. He was stooping to help Foxy. The victory was so much sweeter. Instead of meeting the thin flesh of Foxy's side, my blade came into contact with that of the bane of my existence._

* * *

><p><em>I couldn't make a sound. I wanted to scream but... the pain was so... for lack of a better word, intense. There's no describing something like that. After a few moments of just gasping for words, it went numb. I couldn't feel the initial pain. I could, however, feel the deep warmth of my own blood pouring down my side and onto the sidewalk. My eyes were rolling, spinning me in circles and my ears couldn't pick up a sound. I fell back and landed against the concrete, but I couldn't feel the impact. Everything was numb and cold and seeping with black. The last thing I really remember seeing was Foxy's angry snarl as he leaned over me, but he wasn't facing me. He was screaming at something off to my right. A shadow dashed passed me and I found it to be Dillon and Michael, dashing off in the direction Foxy had been staring. He looked back down at me, expression controrting to that of worry. His golden, glowing eyes never faded from my mind. They bore into my head, tattooed themselves onto my brain. They pierced into my very soul and stabbed me through the heart.<em>


	18. Chapter 18: The Will to Revive

_AN~ Hello people! For those of you reading this on upload day, MERRY CHRISTMAS! HAPPY HANUKA! whatever you celebrate. Either way, happy holidays!_

* * *

><p>He couldn't understand it. He'd never felt so scared. It wasn't even <em>his<em> life slowly fading away. He was worried about Freddy. Nay, he was horrified by the very idea of losing him; losing someone he had just started to consider as a friend.

* * *

><p><em>Horrible things always happen to me or around me, weather they are directly related to me or not. Maybe it's because I always focus on the bad. Maybe it's because I'm in the wrong place at the wrong time regularly. This time, I guess it was the latter. I didn't cause this incident, no, but the fact that I was in close proximity to it and witnessed the aftermath for the confusing hell that it was made my stomach flip. I can't tell you how long Dillon and I chased down the assailant before turning back. He was always just around the corner, always just a moment faster. We needed to give up, not only for our bodied, but for Freddy. There was no telling how bad he was messed up. In fact, we hadn't even checked. We just saw blood and a knife-brandishing psycho and went after him. When we got back to where we'd left Freddy and Foxy, a small crowed had gathered and many where on their cell phones. Dillon didn't like that. "We need to get Freddy in the truck," he told me, "We can't seek the help of the authorities and some of these people must have called them by now. Come on. Hurry." We shoved through the crowed to find Foxy hunched over Freddy's unconscious form. Hot tears rolled down his cheeks from those flaming orbs. Sometimes I swear I saw steam rise from his skin when the liquid touched his face. "Get him up, Foxy," Dillon told the red-head. Foxy nodded and threw Freddy's arm around his shoulder. Dillon took his other casted arm carefully. I took up behind them to make sure they didn't stumble as he was lifted. <em>

_As I expected, though, there was resistance from some 'good Samaritans.' "What are you doing?" one asked, "He needs medical help! We called the E.M.P.s." _

_"We can get him to the hospital faster," was Dillon's response." _

_"This is also a crime scene!" added a woman to our right. _

_"My friend's life is more important to me than legal penalty." Though many tried to stop us, we managed to push through the mass of bodies before reaching our truck. Dillon and Foxy loaded Freddy into the back seat and I walked back to get the things we'd bought and Dillon's cell phone. After that, we found ourselves heading in the direction of home instead of the hospital. I looked to Dillon with a questioning gaze before asking him what he was doing. "We can't rely on the local hospital anymore. They've seen our faces too many times and that'll be the first place the Police will look when searching for the stab victim. Thankfully, Freddy's I.D. isn't in any system so they'll get no information from a DNA swab."_

_"Freddy was stabbed, Dillon! Why can't we go to the police?" _

_"Because I know who did it and sending those men and women after him would be a death-trap."_

_"Who did it?" There was a long silence, Foxy peering up at Dillon from the backseat where he was holding Freddy's head and pressing his left hand down on the stab wound, as though giving a facial cue through the mirror. _

_"Bonnie..." The voice was horse and raspy. Everyone took a quick glance at the back to see Freddy's eyes slowly fluttering, struggling to stay open. He took a deep intake of breath before continuing. "He's... still loyal to our master... he's after my soul..." _

_"Why?" I asked._

_"When... when we killed someone... ma-master would sometimes let u-u-us keep their... their soul. This was a form of... back up power supply, i-if you will. If anything major happened, he... he could rely on the back-up souls to give... to give him power. Over my many... many years of existence... I have accumulated more souls than... than any of the others... I was often referred to as the 'mass back-up.' When... master betrayed me... and hurt me... he expected me to slowly die so that he could consume my soul and e-every soul attached to it... It would have giving him... so-so much power... Now that I didn't die and... and I got away, he wants me to die... he's getting desperate... He needs my souls..." Freddy clutched at his side, clasping over Foxy's hand. "Dillon... do you remember how we told you that Foxy's... soul was different?" Dillon nodded. "Well, it's... it's the reason why our master has no control over him... Our master cannot control... control a being stronger than he is... Whenever Foxy killed someone... we found that he entirely consumed the soul... There was no retrieving it, even if he died... We believe that... the soul that was used to bring Foxy to life... the soul of a little boy... had such a strong will to live, that he would... suck every last bit of life force... of power from any soul that came into contact with him... This even meant the souls of those who he hadn't personally killed... Master broke Foxy for this... put him our of order so he wouldn't consume souls..." _

_"But me'd always get out an' run after me victims... The wee lad inside me wants souls so badly 'cause he believes that if he consumes 'nuff of 'em, he'll be able to come back t'life... I hear 'im talkin' to me sometimes... He tells be about how he misses his mum and how he wants to be able to see the livin' world again..." _

_"His wishes are so strong, yet so innocent, that he can do almost anything... if we can... figure out how t..." Freddy look in a heaving breath before falling back into Foxy's lap. The red-head slowly stroked Freddy's side, trying to get him to continue... "If we can figure out how to channel that energy, that power... through Foxy... we can destroy the demon and... and free every soul he's ever consumed..."_

_"What happens when we release them?" I asked, almost engrossed in the details in which I was privileged enough already to hear. _

_"I don't know... But... maybe they'll... they'll be at rest... Finally... maybe... we'll all be at... rest..." Foxy stroked Freddy's cheek with the back side of his hand as to not bloody-up his face._

_"Speakin' of rest," Foxy breathed gently, smiling softly at the other man, "Ye needs t'get some sleep. It'll take ye a while to heal, Bambi." Freddy smiled back.  
><em>

_"Whatever you say, thumper..." He rolled his head over, closing his eyes._


	19. Chapter 19: Could be Worse

_AN~ Okay, I have no idea why, but the song "The Show Must Go On" by Mandopony is imprisoned in my head! I listened to it on repeat this entire chapter. It's normal for me to listen to music while writing but, not thisreligiously. Forgive me if this chapter has some weird energy._

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><p>They pulled up to the cabin not long before ten. Freddy was alright and awake now, even a little talkative. Perhaps the stab wound wasn't as bad as they'd thought. Him passing out could easily be discounted as shock from the pain. There was a considerable amount of blood, though. Foxy and Dillon managed to get the brunet to his feet and out of the truck. He was uneasy on his own legs. This time, Foxy took Freddy's broken arm, as Freddy had made an earlier comment about how Dillon had been a little too rough with it. "Feelin' alright, Bambi?" Foxy asked. Freddy nodded with a forced grin as they struggled to get him onto the porch. Mike followed slowly behind, confusion finally getting the best of him. Dillon looked back to see him stopped on the steps and gave a raised brow.<p>

"I'll stay out here for a minute. I need some time to relax, okay?" Dillon nodded and closed the door behind them. Once they were out of sight, Mike slumped down on the steps and pulled a box of cigarettes out of his pocket along with his silver-cased lighter. Not seconds after he placed one in his mouth, a voice brought him to look up.

"Mike Shmitd?" Before him stood a young women, wavy blond hair down to her shoulders, in a yellow t-shirt, jeans, orange converse, and a white bandanna which was covered in weird lines and squares that resembled confetti. She wasn't twig thin, but she wasn't fat either. She was healthy and rather pretty in the face with some freckled across her nose. The one strange thing about her that made Mike's heart jump were her pink eyes. The cigarette fell from his mouth which now sat agape. "Is Dillon Shay here?" she asked. He continued to stare. The girl put a fist on her hip, her expression changing to that of annoyance. She waved a hand in front of his face, making the man jump back and hit his back against the other stairs.

"Uhh... a... yeah... He's inside... Wa... Wait! No! No! You're one of the bad ones, aren't you? You didn't run off with Freddy and Foxy, you're with Bonnie!"

"No, Mike, I left them. Bonnie's gone totally psycho. I couldn't turn my back on- Wait, is Freddy okay? He was really banged up when I last saw him." Mike was back against the door, Chica now on the porch.

"Stay here," was his only response as he slung open the door and slammed it back, rushing upstairs after a quick scope of the house. "Dillon! Dillon!" He called, rushing into Freddy's room where Foxy was dressing the brunet's wound. "Where's Dillon?" asked the smaller male, distress plain on his face.

"He be in the basement gettin' extra blankets an' a towel fer Freddy. What be the problem, lad? Ye seem like ye saw a ghost." Even Freddy was attentive as he could be to Mike's obvious startle.

"Chica is my problem. She's on the porch!"

"What?" Foxy got up, putting down the roll of bandage.

"No, you stay here and keep an eye on Freddy. We'll let Dillon handle this for now. We can't let her know you two are here." The red head sat back down, gripping Freddy's wrist rather hard through the cast. Mike jogged from the room and to the basement door through the kitchen. He caught Dillon coming up the stairs with a bundle of fabric in his arms. "We have a slight problem standing your porch." The blond stopped, glaring at Mike for a second before handing him the blankets and towel.

"Bonnie?" he asked, walking to the door.

"No, Chica."

"Take that stuff to Freddy. I'll handle this." Dillon opened the door and glared for a moment at the small blond before him. She relaxed when she saw him, a polite smile on her lips. "Chica?" Dillon said before the other could open her mouth.

"Yeah, listen I have a lot to explain and you might not believe me, but things are about to go to hell for Freddy and Foxy. Are they alright?" Dillon nodded. "Okay, I don't know how to explain this in human terms, but in short, a paranormal war is about to be unleashed on this earth."

"Your master's doing?"

"They told you? Good, that makes things easier... wait, how much did they tell you?"

"Oh, just that you work for an all powerful demon that consumers human souls for power and that Freddy is his key to unlimited power."

"And anarchy. I know what he's planning and if you just hear me out, I can help you." Dillon shook his head.

"And I should trust you because...?"

"I would never go against Freddy. He's always been like a father to me. I may have been following orders from that monster, but if Freddy told me to go against it, I'd take Freddy's command over his any day. I can't say the same about Bonnie, though. He's lost his mind. I think... I don't know what to think of him any more. One moment he's okay, the next he's laughing like the devil and ranting about some maniacal dooms day! He's beyond saving."

"When was the last time you saw him?" Chica would have told Dillon the truth, but any details about... what Bonnie had done to her... he'd think that she was on his side, or whatever side Bonnie was on. What had the man meant when he said he couldn't go against her, yet couldn't deny master? She wished she didn't believe his sweet lies, but that part of her couldn't let go of the thought of Bonnie being some part good.

"A few days ago in some barn not far from town. I talked about leaving master, then next thing I know I wake up tied to a post. I managed to get away and find my way here. You have no idea how close they were to finding you. By the way, I hope you didn't have anything of value in your apartment."

"Why?"

"Well, Bonnie... kinda... bashed the door in. It's how we found that contact number for your address." Dillon ran his palms over his face and groaned. "listen, I'm sorry, but I need to talk to Freddy! You can check me for weapons in you want, I don't care." Dillon sat there in thought for the longest time, scratching his head. Could he really trust her? Freddy had warned him about Bonnie and Chica and this had been the girl that ground her knee into his back. There was still a bruise there. There was a lot at risk, too much to just trust someone's word. On one side, there was the life of someone who mattered more to the human world than any blood-born human that ever existed. If he died, they'd all be soon to follow. This girl claimed to have some warning for them, though. If she told the truth, they might be able to get a leg up in their impending battle. Dillon looked at her, staring intently at her expression, her posture. She seemed so earnest, so pleading. Simply a good liar? She _was _the spawn brought to life through a demon, but so were Freddy and Foxy and neither of them could lie worth shit.

"Come on." He motioned for her to follow as he turned and went inside. She was a little hesitant, but quickly caught up to him. "Close the door. It's cold." Chica obeyed and followed slowly up the stairs. They turned towards an open bedroom door.

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><p><em>When I saw him, I almost smiled, had the situation not merited a serious expression. Then, I saw what shape he was in. His body was covered in healing cuts and scars along with a wrapped right arm. Foxy was tucking a towel under what looked like a new wound at his side which was freshly dressed, yet still leaking quite a bit of blood. "What happened?" I asked, standing in the doorway. Knowing Foxy, I didn't want to be too close when he got aggressive, especially after what happened last time I saw him. He glared at me with those pitiless golden orbs, almost to the point of snarling according to his expression, but Dillon gave a gesture, and Foxy reluctantly lifted his head, but continued to stab me with an distrusting side glance.<em>

_"He got stabbed by ye mate," Foxy growled, "Jus' tonight." I covered my mouth and breathed hard into my hands. Freddy was also giving me a weary glance, his blue eyes looking so weak, so tired. I tried to take a step into the room, to maybe comfort him, but Foxy growled, literally growled, at me. "Take one step an' I'll rip ye t'pieces!" he barked. Everyone, including Freddy, looked at him in bewilderment as though this wasn't a norm for him._

_"Foxy, it's okay," Dillon tried to reassure, but Foxy wasn't having any of it._

_"I'm not takin' any chances! Not after t'night." He stroked Freddy's side and snorted at me. It was like he was some rabid animal._

_"Foxy," Freddy gripped his shoulder and say up, patting Foxy's hand which was still at his side. "It's okay..." Foxy's expression softened as he got up, stepping aside. Freddy looked up at me with some new energy that hadn't been there before. He was such a trooper. "Are you okay?" he asked me._

_"Yeah... You?"_

_"Could be worse."_

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><p><strong><em>UPDATE: If I don't get but one more review on this, I'm going to discontinue it and delete it off of . Honestly, it's your feedback that keeps me converting this RP. I haven't gotten any feedback at ALL over the past few chapters and that worries me that people aren't liking it. Yeah, this has taken a strange turn and none of the story elements are valid because FNAF 2 came out while we were doing this RP, but still. <em>**


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